


wavelength

by hopipp (fancy2na)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beach Volleyball, Captains, Coming Out, Enoshima (City), Friends to Lovers, M/M, Memes, Oneshot, Roadtrip, Slow Burn, Summer Vacation, Tokyo (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-13 19:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancy2na/pseuds/hopipp
Summary: "You know what I need right now?" Iwaizumi says suddenly, staring straight ahead at the gaudy blue and orange pattern of the back of the bus seat.A little bit of hair product? A reminder of how flawless I am?Tooru would usually quip something teasing, but the words feel inappropriate, tasteless on his tongue."What do you need?” Tooru asks him softly instead, and Iwaizumi turns his head to meet his gaze.“A vacation."AKA: a beach volleyball au thats probably been done 1000 times but this time featuring gratuitous japanese geography, teenagers pining a piteous amount, and a lot of sand in places sand shouldnt be





	wavelength

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this fanfic in 2015, with my choice for its setting initially inspired by the anime tsuritama (which is an absolute gem). So I posted the first half in 2017 with a vague, fanciful idea of what enoshima is actually like. I have since then had the opportunity to visit in person, and gosh, it was even more magical than I ever could have dreamed! If there's one hope I have for my writing here it's that I've captured that fantastic, magical island's essence even just a little bit! truly, if you're ever around tokyo give enoshima a visit. 
> 
> at this point i dont think ill ever be completely satisfied with this story, but now i realize thats because my love for these characters exceeds all creative ability. it kind of breaks my heart that the haikyu fandom is a fraction of the giant it once was, but these boys still mean the world to me. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy <3

 

~

 

For once, Seijou VBC's commute home to Miyagi from the spring qualifiers is a silent affair. None of the usual excitement after a victory can be heard, no exultant bantering or triumphant jeers. Nobody has taken their shirt off or stuck their head out of the window, screaming in elation at bewildered passersby all while Coach tuts disapprovingly but still tolerates the madness with a glint in his eyes because once again, this mismatched yet determined group of high school kids has made him _proud._

No, there's none of that this time.

Instead, there is a tension so profound it makes the air around Tooru feel heavier, weighing down like a pair of hands on his shoulders, pressing him deep into the plush of the bus seat.

Fresh is their loss to Karasuno, their disqualification from the tournament they’ve been training so meticulously for, and Tooru can’t get the words that Ushijima had said to him off of repeat in his head.

_'You should have come to Shiratorizawa'_

_'You should have come to Shiratorizawa'_

Should he have? And would it have made a difference, really? To switch his colours from teal to magenta (initial insignificance to fore-earned prestige).

Even on a winning team, he’d still be the same as he is now, he thinks. Same lack of natural genius, same self-destructive stubbornness. Even the same accursed knee impediment to go along with it.

Yes, had he gone to Shiratorizawa he would have been the same all but for one crucial, _decisive_ factor.

Tooru’s gaze flits to Iwaizumi, naturally, as it's done so often in the duration of his 17 years of life thus far. His long-time best friend has been reasonably withdrawn since they boarded the bus, sitting taciturn with a pair of clunky white headphones covering his ears. Tooru notices the circles sagging beneath his weary eyes, dark like someone’s dipped their thumbs in indigo paint and smeared it there.

As if awoken by the attention, Iwaizumi says to him, "You know what I need right now?"

 _A little bit of hair product? A reminder of how flawless I am?_ Tooru would usually quip something teasing, but the words feel inappropriate, tasteless on his tongue.

"What do you need?” he replies softly instead.

“A vacation. I feel like it would be good to get away from here for a bit.”

Letting the idea sink in, Tooru realizes that he hasn’t been on a true vacation since their parents had taken them to Nobiru beach for the day way back in elementary school. All of the travelling they’ve done in recent years has been with the team for training camps or tournaments. And even then, it’s not like they’ve ever gotten much down time.

To Tooru, being away in a different city meant doing Captain Things like planning team schedules and analyzing their enemies. It meant gruelling day-long workouts and sleeping on a flimsy futon in a room filled with a dozen other adolescent boys. On a few occasions they were fortunate enough to cram in a new city’s sights within a half day of free time, but even then, the idea of getting away for the sole purpose of relaxation and indulgence was rather unheard of in his books.

Iwaizumi is right, the prospect of a _real_ vacation holds quite the appeal.

“Where can we go?" Tooru drinks the suggestion right up, “I don’t think either of us can afford somewhere overseas.”

He speaks for them both because neither of them have ever had part time jobs, let alone the time for one. Tooru’s accumulated some allowance and birthday money, but it’s nowhere near enough for an all-inclusive in Fiji.

"It doesn’t have to be far,” says Iwaizumi, “I just wanna lie down on a beach."

A temperate baritone cuts into their conversation, “Then you should come to my uncle's place this summer." Matsukawa Issei peeks around the gaudy blue and orange seat in front of them. "We've got an extra room since my sister joined the military."

"Oh? Where's your uncle's place Mattsun?" Tooru vaguely recalls Matsukawa visiting relatives for a few weeks every summer but beyond that this is news to him.

"Enoshima, near Tokyo." Matsukawa nods at the seat beside him, "Hanamaki was gonna take the spare but we've got a few futons so we can definitely make space for two more."

"Plus I’ve got Old Blue now." the other middle blocker chimes in, hoisting himself over the top of the seat. Old Blue, a used teal van and Hanamaki’s new love, had been purchased with the money gifted to him for his birthday back in January.

"It'll be cheaper than taking the shinkansen if the four of us split for gas." he adds, but Tooru knows he’ll embrace any excuse for a road trip.

Still, he and Iwaizumi exchange a slightly disbelieving look, both baffled that their luck could be so fruitful so quickly.

“Are you for real guys?” Tooru hesitates, "Mattsun, your uncle wouldn't mind?"

“Nah he's cool. Plus he's been wanting to meet you and Iwaizumi since we showed him some videos of us playing in first year.”

Right now, in this moment, amongst the intermittent sniffles of his fallen comrades as their coach bus bounds 100mph down the freeway, Tooru can't help but think that they deserve such a break.

“You can count us in.” he and Iwaizumi say, together.

 

~

 

They plan their trip for the last three weeks of July, and Tooru is delighted that for once, he'll get to spend his own birthday somewhere that isn't in or around the vicinity of Miyagi prefecture. The months before then need to pass, and they do, eventually, some too quickly and others not quickly enough.

A scout for the volleyball team at Meiji University in Tokyo contacts Tooru with a scholarship opportunity less than a week after the spring qualifiers, even despite Seijou’s big loss before nationals. Soon after, Iwaizumi rejects a similar offer from Nagoya University, only to announce his retirement from athletics to focus on post-secondary education.

“I’m going to apply to medical school.” is what he decides, not having discussed it with Tooru at all.

The prospect doesn’t quite register in Tooru’s brain at first, the nerves not connecting, like a barcode being scanned in the wrong store, coming up with a blank screen.

It leads him to wonder if Iwaizumi would have still made that decision had they been scouted by the same teams. Whether the dream he thought they’d always shared of Olympic medals around their necks was only shared if the journey along the way was too.

Tooru has always been an analytic, his greatest downfall not the ubiquitous threat of his faulty knee but his tendency to get lost in the aisles upon aisles of organized thoughts in his head. It’s like a blaring alarm sounds whenever he dares himself to acknowledge he’ll be going to university without his best friend, that in a few months time he'll have a new team to support, a new school to represent, and a new ace to set for.

So he keeps busy with exams and other trivialities, more or less successful in the gutless but effective skill of _outright_ _avoidance_ until one stormy night.

They are sprawled across Iwaizumi’s bed watching _Godzilla_ for the millionth time, legs tangled together like misplaced headphone wires, all beneath a too-small fleece blanket. On screen, a character does something silly in her haste to get away from the monster and Tooru points it out, just an offhand comment really, but it makes Iwaizumi tremble with laughter, his elusive dimples revealing themselves. Tooru feels the rumbling in his own chest, reverberating off his insides, jostling something that had been lodged into his heart.

They’re in their element, the moment mundane, nothing new. But when the credits roll, and Iwaizumi rises to remove the DVD, Tooru’s mouth is running before his brain has time to catch up.

“So, Waseda and Keio, huh.”

His back to Tooru, Iwaizumi pauses at the machine. “Waseda and Keio.” he confirms.  

“They’re both in Tokyo, right?”

The wind outside seems offensively loud, a branch from the magnolia tree between their houses taps against the window.

“They are.” Iwaizumi’s tone is careful.

“Meiji is there too.” Tooru says, “In Tokyo. So if you accept one of their offers...”

Iwaizumi pivots on his heel. “Out with it already,” he demands, never one to dance around anything.

“We might as well room together?” Tooru poses it like a question, because he hadn’t allowed himself to think about this, so where had it come from? Nowhere? Thin air? Or had it slipped out of that hole in his heart?

Iwaizumi’s almond eyes are wide. “You’re not gonna dorm with your team?”

Tooru looks away, at the magnolia branch. The buds are dewy green, nearly ready to bloom. He’s always preferred magnolias over cherry blossoms- they’re less fleeting, more fragrant, not quite as delicate but equally beautiful in colour.

“I’ll be seeing enough of them at practice. Plus dorms are crampy and loud, I’d probably come crash at your place a lot anyways so sharing is just more practical.”

There’s no immediate reply, and the tap-tap-tap of the branch becomes insistent as stopwatch. Persistent as a grenade.

Iwaizumi snaps the DVD case shut loudly, then slides it onto the shelf in its spot between _A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ and _Prometheus,_ Tooru’s favourites. “Is that why?” he asks, the trace of disappointment tilting his voice quite unexpected.

 _It’s not. It’s not why._ But it triggers something in Tooru, reboots him completely. Because they’re running out of time, on the court, at Seijou, as kids- and time is something Tooru desperately wants but right now, more than anything, what he _needs_ is to see those dimples again. To know that unlike everything else in his life they’re not disappearing anytime soon.

He stands up, because of this he has always been certain, “You’re my best friend. That’s why.”

Iwaizumi huffs, but he is smiling crookedly, as if the moment he had applied to Tokyo he knew this outcome was inevitable.

“I couldn't get rid of you if I tried, could I?"

“I’ve been told that my unwavering stubbornness will be my demise.”

“Guess that settles it, then.”

The flowers on the magnolia bloom the next day, and the day after. Pink scatterings of petals cover their window sills all the way up until graduation.

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**10 July 20XX, 5:32 AM**

 

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** u guys ready??

 

 **Me:** barely

 **Me:** oikawa has a lot of bags

 **Me:** like a LOT

 

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** well hurry his ass up we gotta pick up matsukawa and get gas

 

 **Me:** these bags r never ending wtf

 **Me:** last night i helped him pack and there was only 1 luggage

 

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** they r to hide the bodies, maybe

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** to traffick the drugs in

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** wait i don’t want Old Blue to become an accomplice to this scheme lets leave oikawa at home

 

 **Me:** if only it were that easy

 

~

 

“I really don’t think there’s enough room in the trunk for all that.” Hanamaki points out when Oikawa exits his house with two family sized luggages, a backpack, _and_ a duffel bag in tow. “I might believe you’re actually smuggling something questionable.”

Hajime moves to take one of the incriminating pieces of baggage off his hands- the contents within rattle when he rolls it over the edge of the driveway. “Oi, what did you even put in this one?”

“My hair products, of course. Nothing questionable.” the brunet flips said _coiffe_ in a dramatic fashion, “I’m trusting you not to drop that! My blowdryer is very fragile- wait where are you going!?”

Hajime storms back into Oikawa’s house with the luggage hauled indignantly over his head. He re-emerges without it, expression steely.

“Iwa-chan, you don’t understand! Those are my essentials!” Oikawa gawps, a look of absolute betrayal written all over his face, “I can’t just _not_ blow dry my hair, like a barbarian or something! I can’t have it look like _yours!”_

“It’s a vacation, Oikawa. We’re going to relax, not pick up girls.” _You’ve done that enough these past few months_. He gives Oikawa a push toward the van, “You don’t need it.”

“But-! My flat iron! My leave in conditioner!” Oikawa whines, staring over his shoulder and back at his house with longing. “The sea is gonna make my hair all frizzy! I _trusted_ you, Iwa-chan! How could you do this to me?!”

“Easily.” Hajime deadpans as Hanamaki finishes loading up their stuff.

From the front porch, their mothers call out, "Be safe boys!"

“Try not to kill each other!”

Months ago when the two of them had brought up the idea of this trip their families had been all for it, claiming that their kids deserved some time off after months of devout volleyball practice, applying to universities, online apartment hunting, and writing exams.

Even Oikawa’s father, who is reserved and stringent, had granted his youngest a contented _‘You’ve earned it, son.’_

“C’mon, don’t make them worry about you.” Hajime tells Oikawa, who is still lamenting over his beauty products.

 _They might as well be drugs, honestly._ He leans over to ruffle his hair with one hand and wave goodbye with the other.

“Iwa-chan noooo!” Oikawa wails, frantically patting down his head, “You’re ruining it! This style needed to last me at least two days!”

Hajime goes one step further and noogies him for that. It elicits an outcry loud enough to wake the neighbours, so he shoves Oikawa completely inside the van.

“What did I say about killing each other?!” Hajime’s mom tuts.

“I never made any promises!”

Hanamaki peeks back from the driver’s seat with a nonchalant expression dancing upon his face. “Are you ready kids?”

 _Two and a half weeks with this nightmare and you won’t be looking so amused,_ Hajime thinks fondly. _But then again, I’m also the idiot who agreed to move in with said nightmare._

Oikawa grumbles, “Not unless we’re stopping at Disneyland.”

 

~

 

Located on the southern shore of Kamakura, Enoshima beach stretches out westward, a 600m bridge connecting it to its main island, marking it only about an hour away from Shinjuku by train.

Peering through the window of Hanamaki’s van, Tooru can already tell that Enoshima is a lively, colourful vacation spot. He sees people, hundreds of heads dotting the shoreline and countless more sprawled out on towels or playing in the sand, laughing and screaming and relaxing.

On the other side of the road is a town equally sparkling and alive. There are people crossing the streets with surfboards under their arms and animal shaped floaties hoisted above their heads. Tooru can see streams of steam rising from the roofs of every food stall and airy restaurant they pass, hearing boisterous but charming music booming in all directions. There are cute little souvenir shops, and tacky ones too, as well as tourist information centres, swimsuit stores, beach rentals, and endless hotels sitting on every corner.

They even drive by a sign that says _Enoshima Aquarium,_ and it’s no Disneyland, but Tooru decides he definitely wants to check it out later because sea creatures are the closest thing earth has to aliens and aliens are _awesome._

Hanamaki drives, and Tooru has his face pressed to the window glass in childish fascination because little old Nobiru beach had nothing on this paradise. There are actual, real life _palm trees_ here. He feels like a kid again, giddy about exploring an unfamiliar place and embarking on a brand new adventure. Iwaizumi had fallen asleep in the car back then too, music coursing through his ears with his head resting on Tooru’s shoulder like a makeshift pillow, just as he's doing now.

They head farther out to where Matsukawa’s uncle’s place is, and the hubbub and congestion begins to dwindle slightly. The town isn’t too far though, just a short drive or even a decent walk if they’re up for it.

When they finally pull up into the driveway, it’s already almost 2pm.

“Iwa-chan~” Tooru chirps, flicking him on the meat of his cheek, “Wake up, sleepy! We’re here!”

“Mickey mouse?” Iwaizumi mumbles groggily into Tooru's skin.

“Not quite!” he pushes Iwaizumi’s head away, gently, because the warm tickle of his breath _does things_ to Tooru's heart that he's been trying to ignore and would rather not have to deal with during what should supposedly be a relaxing vacation.

“Only Mattsun’s uncle!”

Matsukawa’s uncle, it turns out, is not actually home yet, though he should be returning from his rental shop on the island once it gets dark out. His nephew has a key to the house, thankfully, so he takes it upon himself to show everyone around the admittedly tiny place.

Townhouse style, the house is larger than it looks on the outside, containing ample space for the single occupant it houses year round. Tooru instantly likes it though, because it's airy and open, with tatami mats and potted plants scattered all over, and when you look out the windows there’s either a spectacular view of the ocean or a spectacular view of the mountains.

_That’s not something you see in Miyagi._

“Pick one: bathroom or balcony.” Matsukawa says after they’ve all lugged their stuff up the stairs to the second floor.

“Balcony!” Tooru responds, to everyone’s surprise, apparently.

“Not worried about looking pretty anymore are you?” Iwaizumi observes.

“You think so little of me.” he pouts, proceeding to haul his stuff into the room first. “You’re getting the futon for that."

Truthfully, the declaration is empty. Tooru knows that they’ll probably end up sharing the bed anyways.

 

~

 

Eager to get out and enjoy the last few hours of sun, the boys head to the beach behind the house to set down some towels.

“Wow, look at that!” Oikawa exclaims, pointing at a group of four girls a little further down the strip, “They’re playing beach volleyball!”

“Huh, I wonder if it's hard diving on the sand.” Hajime inquires, which earns him matching baffled looks from both Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“Have you never played beach volleyball before?” Matsukawa gawks, his usually impartial demeanour aghast.

“Uh, no?” Oikawa affirms as he rolls his towel out on the sand. There's a big UFO printed on it, right above the English words ‘I WANT TO BELIEVE'. It was a graduation gift from his nephew- Iwaizumi had been sitting at Oikawa’s side when he unravelled the thing with sparkles in his eyes.

“I just assumed it was like regular volleyball but with two people and on the beach.”

“I can’t believe this.” Hanamaki blurts incredulously, “The _Grand King_ has never played beach volleyball.”

“Shut up, Makki!” said Grand King snaps, and Hajime can’t help but think it’s kind of funny too, though he’s not one to judge since he’s never played either.

“Iwa-chan and I haven’t been to the beach since we were like ten okay?”

“It's true.” Hajime thinks back to years ago when they spent the day running around in the sun, sucking on Garigari-kuns and trying to catch minnows with their hands. At that age, they didn’t even blink twice at a volleyball, since they had played for the first time a few years later at Kitagawa Daiichi.

“Well, do you wanna try it?” Matsukawa gestures to the group of girls, “We’ve got an old net and a ball in the shed.”

“Sure!” Oikawa chirps, and Hajime just shrugs,

“Why not?"

So Oikawa goes with Matsukawa to retrieve some equipment while Hanamaki and Hajime map out a roughly 8m by 16m court in the sand. After setting up the net halfway, they decide to mark the corners of it with their sandals for more visibility.

“Never imagined I'd have to teach my own captain how to play volleyball.” Matsukawa mutters, and Hanamaki has to cover his mouth to stop from snickering.

“Finally, something I can beat Iwaizumi at.” he drawls.

Hajime punches him in the arm, “Why don’t you explain the game before you talk big?” he suggests challengingly.

“Don’t get too cocky, Makki.” Oikawa backs Hajime up with one of his signature we’re-better-than-you scoffs. Hajime knows it all too well. “Iwa-chan beats you at _everything.”_

“Fine, fine,” Hanamaki concedes, rubbing the blossoming bruise on his arm where Hajime had punched him, “Onto the rules. Matsukawa? Wanna do the honours?”

“Alright, well, beach volleyball is similar in some aspects.” their other friend begins, “Two players per team. Three sets to a game. First two sets go to 21, and the third goes to 15. In order to win the set you need to have a two point lead. With me so far?”

Oikawa and Hajime nod in assent, so Matsukawa continues, “While playing you have 3 touches. The first is usually a pass, the second a set, and the third an attack. You don’t have to use all three, and the same player can’t touch the ball twice in a row.”

“Sounds easy,” Oikawa comments, twirling the ball between his palms like he often does before a serve, “Three sets, three touches. 2 point lead per set, third set to 15. No touching twice in a row.”

“Does it matter who sets and who attacks? Is there a rotation?”

“No it's just the serve that rotates. Which are from behind the line, no crossing.”

“Alright.” Hajime easily recaps the rules in his head, “It really isn’t that different from regular volleyball.”  

“When we actually play, you won’t think so.” Hanamaki turns to Matsukawa, “Did I leave anything out?”

“Just some little things. Like, no contact with the net, no touching the ball with your fingers-“

“Wait, what?” Oikawa interrupts, stopping his twirling, “What do you mean no fingers? How are you supposed to set it, then?”

“I’ll show you, toss the ball over to me.” He makes a beckoning motion with his hand.

Sceptical, Oikawa tosses to him like he usually would, but Hanamaki uses the very tips of his fingers to send it to Matsukawa, who volleys it back by clasping his hands together and letting the ball hit the flat of his thumbs.

“I can spike though right?” Hajime asks, “I just gotta use the palm of my hand.”

“Yup, just remember no grabbing.”

“Hm, okay. We can handle this.” Oikawa picks up the ball again and marches over to one side of the net. Hajime follows him on autopilot; it doesn't occur to him that it'd be more logical they separate for their first game.

“I call serve!” Oikawa proclaims.

“You’re supposed to rock-paper-scissors for it.” Hanamaki tuts. Matsukawa moves to take position beside him, “But it’s only fair we go easy on you, so I’ll let it slide.”

Oikawa just snorts, readying his serve. Hanamaki swallows and suddenly remembers what it's like to be on the receiving end of that serve. _Murderous._

“Let’s see if you’re all talk today or you actually mean it, Makki.”

 

~

 

An hour and multiple sand scrapes later, it turns out that Hanamaki _is_ in fact all talk today.

The first set is a given at 21-10 Matsukawa and Hanamaki, the win mostly due to stupid mistakes such as Iwaizumi accidentally touching the ball twice or Tooru using his fingers to set it to him. Unaccustomed to the unusual terrain, Tooru slips on the sand a few times diving for the ball. It would probably have been more embarrassing had he not been so absorbed in the game.

At first it’s hard to focus since he has to repeatedly remind himself that the rules are different from regular volleyball, a game he and Iwaizumi have spent nearly six years devoting their lives to. Although there are some restrictions in that difference, Tooru soon realizes that there are also a lot of new liberties. He and Iwaizumi find their groove in the second set, winning but only barely at 23-21.

It could have been a fluke had they not _dominated_ the third and final set at 15-8.

“I can’t believe this.” an incredulous Hanamaki sighs, running a hand through his rosy brown hair, “They literally just learned the rules an hour ago. Matsukawa and me have been playing together for the past three summers.” He shakes his head as his rookie friends exchange an enthusiastic yet sandy fist-bump on the other side of the net.

“And you said you’d go easy on us!” Tooru cries, breathless and thrumming with adrenaline, “Nothing beats mine and Iwa-chan’s perfect trust!”

“I guess we still got it.” Iwaizumi shrugs, meeting Tooru’s eye.

Tooru hadn’t forgotten what it was like- the thrill of victory with his best friend standing tall beside him, equally captivated and passionate and eager. He savoured it far too much. This win was almost _better,_ because he had been replaying those memories over and over again in his head and nothing compared to a taste of the real deal after being starved of it for so long.

“Well, we did go easy on you.” Hanamaki maintains as Matsukawa makes his way over to their towels nearby. He opens the small cooler they brought and throws everyone a bottle of water, which they all practically chug down in one gulp.

Tooru tries his hardest not to watch the apple of Iwaizumi’s throat bob up and down greedily as he drinks. He’s unsuccessful, and just short of realizing that it’s the beginning of a snowball effect- a definite red flag for whats to come over the next few weeks.

“Did you now?” Tooru turns instead to Hanamaki, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised in disbelief, “How’s a rematch sound then?"

“And this time you’re free to go _all out._ ” Iwaizumi, ever reliable (and mercifully no longer drinking) adds.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa exchange a wordless deliberation. Iwaizumi cracks his knuckles, and Tooru’s battle-smile returns in all its bone chilling glory when their other two friends agree.

“You’re on."

 

~

 

The next time, to Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s (but mostly Hanamaki's) absolute dismay, Oikawa and Hajime win even more easily in the first two sets of their rematch at 16-21 and 14-21.

“Fuck it, I’m going swimming.” Hanamaki announces, trudging towards the ocean which stretches behind them like an infinite blue backdrop.

“Same here.” Hajime folds up his sunglasses and follows right behind him.

The game has left him exhausted, sweating under the sun while playing volleyball proves to be infinitely more taxing than in the shade under a roof, more often than not with air conditioning.

Hajime doesn’t hesitate to dive right in, he ducks his head under, savouring the cool saltwater’s immediate effect on his heated skin. There’s something much more magical about the ocean than a pool, perhaps because he hasn’t visited it in quite a number of years. It’s revitalizing, cleansing, tantalizing. Floating on his back, he listens to the nearby crashing of the waves, the warbling of the seagulls overhead, and the buzz of distant music and conversation.

“Agh! I stepped on something squishy!” shrieks a familiar voice, and sure enough there’s Oikawa fleeing from the tide’s advance as if it had a personal vendetta against him.

 _I wouldn't be surprised if it did,_ Hajime sighs.

“It’s just seaweed, Oikawa.” Matsukawa is already in the water halfway to where their other friends are floating, “The beach cleaners don’t come out this far so just step over it."

“But Mattsun! It’s _foamy._ Is nature supposed to be foamy?!”

“Get in here or I’ll throw you in myself!” Hajime calls out, and even Oikawa knows Hajime is always dead serious with his threats, only a fool would test that.

When he inevitably gives in and begins swimming out to them, but not without voicing his displeasure all the while, Hanamaki comments to Hajime, “Man he _always_ does what you say, you’re like a scary wife who bosses around her husband.”

“I think Oikawa would be the wife.” Matsukawa attests, and Hajime decides that now is an impeccable opportunity to finally drown the both of them.

_Yup, coming to the beach was one of the best ideas I've ever had._

There’s splashing and screaming and laughter, and when Oikawa finally swims over and yelps, “Iwa-chan why are you drowning Makki?!” Hajime just replies,

“Get Matsukawa for me please?”

To nobody’s surprise, Oikawa shrugs and does as he says.

 

~

 

After flopping back onto their towels and drying off in the sun for a while, the four of them return to Matsukawa’s uncle’s house to clean themselves up.

“I forgot how much I hate wearing sunscreen.” Tooru grouses, fresh out of the shower. “It’s like, no matter how hard you scrub you’ll never _not_ be sticky again.”

“Better than being burnt.” says Iwaizumi, crouched in front of his suitcase. A single afternoon outdoors and he’s already three shades darker than Tooru is, the bastard.

“Perpetual sticky discomfort isn’t even the worst part, look at my hair!” Tooru prods at the unruly mass of auburn atop his head with incredible disdain, “It’s gone curly!”

“Was probably the seawater.” Iwaizumi debates between a black v-neck and forest green henley. “It did that last time too.”

Tooru does vaguely recall his hair going amok when they went to Nobiru, but only because he’s got a photograph of the trip stashed away in his bedside drawer at home, along with several dozen other photos of he and Iwaizumi over the years, give or take various teammates from Seijou and Kitagawa Daiichi.

Regrettably though, at such an age he couldn’t care less what the frizzy mess on his scalp looked like, so he doesn't show them to anyone.

“Wait, you remember that?” Tooru balks, his hand falls against his side, “Also, pick the black.” he adds, because Iwaizumi in a v-neck is his _favourite._

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi folds the henley back up, then pulls the v-neck over his head.

 _Definitely my favourite_ , Tooru swallows as the muscles in his back shift with the motion.

The fact that he has to remind himself to look away isn’t a good sign.

“I haven’t seen you with your natural hair since so I guess that's why I remembered.”

“Well get used to it, because _someone_ denied me of my necessary beauty products.” Tooru glares at him, “Now I’m going to look like Chewbacca all month.”

“Please, you’d be thrilled to look like Chewbacca for a month.”

“I wanna be Han Solo! Or Princess Leia! Even Kylo Ren, they’re all hotter than _Chewie!_ Chewie is not hot!”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi joins him in front of the only mirror in the room, a dusty old thing hung beside a framed photo of unknown Matsukawa-looking people. “You’re not here to impress anyone. Relax, that's the point of vacation.” His eyes rove over his unkempt friend, as if taking a look for himself. It's ridiculous, but under Iwaizumi's added scrutiny, Tooru feels incredibly self conscious.

“It's nice like that too, so stop fussing."

Tooru stills, because did Iwaizumi Hajime just compliment him on his appearance?

He has to bite down on his lip to keep from sounding like Chewbacca too.

“Guys, Ji-san is home! Come say hi!” Matsukawa calls from the hallway.

“C’mon, let's go.” Iwaizumi says before heading out the door.

Left standing there alone now, Tooru thinks gravely to himself,

_So much for relaxing on this trip._

 

~

 

Matsukawa Hisao is a jovial but balding man in his sixties. His hair is greying, his skin swarthy and lined. The trademark Matsukawa eyebrows sit prominent on his face, and Tooru figures their illustriousness is an inherited family trait.

He’s incredibly welcoming though, immediately declaring to his guests, “Please, just call me Ji-san!”

It’s unusual but endearing, seeing an old man in an (ironically) Mickey Mouse patterned pair of swim shorts with a sunglasses-shaped tan line across his face, but Tooru guesses it’s just because he hasn’t been exposed to the local culture all that long yet.

“Ji-san, this is Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime.” Matsukawa the younger gestures to his companions respectively, “They’re friends from high school and volleyball club.”

The two bow respectfully and say in tandem, “Please take care of us.”

“Ah, I remember you two from the television interviews.” Matsukawa Sr’s dark eyes flicker to Tooru, “Though they seemed to focus a lot on Curly-kun over here.”

Iwaizumi snorts at the nickname, his other two friends likewise stifle a laugh. Tooru deplores the hair gods, and Hanamaki drapes an arm around his neck.

"He _was_ the captain.” he says.

“And a damn good one, too.” adds Iwaizumi proudly.

Tooru lets out the previously restrained Chewbacca-esque choking noise, thinking he may need some time to psychologically recover from the second compliment from Iwaizumi within twenty minutes before opening his mouth again.

“They won against me and Hanamaki in beach volleyball today. Twice.” Hanamaki pinches Tooru’s pectoral at this, causing him to yelp and shove him off, while Matsukawa continues, “I think we're gonna go out to the public courts tomorrow.”

“That's a great idea.” the older man smiles, amused by his rambunctious young guests, “Be sure to come visit the shop if you're on the island. You can borrow some boards if you like.”

“Thanks Ji-san.” his nephew replies, “We were gonna head out for dinner now, do you want me to bring you anything?”

“Oho, I’m quite alright thank you.” he shoos them off towards the door good-naturedly, "You kids have fun.”

 

~

 

For dinner they go to a nearby _shirasudon_ place that Matsukawa and Hanamaki have apparently frequented often during their summers here. The heaping portions of tiny white fish are an Enoshima specialty that they insisted Oikawa and he give a try.

They duck under a bright red tapestry to get inside. The shop lacks doors and windows, only open during the warmer months when tourism is booming. Hajime likes it though because without them the view of the sun setting behind the silhouettes of palm trees is something out of a postcard.

“I still can’t believe you two killed us at beach volleyball today,” Hanamaki complains after they’ve placed their orders, “Me and Matsukawa came second in the tournament last year. _Second._ And you've never played at all.”

“Tournament?” Oikawa repeats, interest peaked.

Hajime’s stomach drops at the word, grip around his water glass tightening.

“Yeah, the locals hold one every summer.” Matsukawa tells them, “The finals are usually held near the end of the month.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa turns to Hajime, practically vibrating in his excitement.

“I know what you’re going to say.” he frowns. His gut is telling him _this is a bad idea,_ and not just because he gave up playing volleyball competitively months ago.

“Well of course you do.” Oikawa points out merrily, “You wouldn’t be Iwa-chan if you didn’t.”

“Oikawa… we literally just learned the rules this morning.” he argues, but there’s no real bite in his words, he can't find it. There’s a part of Hajime ignoring his own precautions, because their layers are unravelling, revealing themselves instead to be excuses. “We’ve only played two games. Ever. In our lives.”

“True but we won them! Those are impeccable statistics!” Oikawa snatches up Hajime’s wrists with an iron-grip, chocolate eyes wide and pleading, “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Hajime can’t deny that he had fun playing earlier. In fact, just calling it _fun_ is most certainly an understatement.

It was actually kind of an epiphany. Beach volleyball held all of the excitement of learning a new game but not with the complete amateur that doing so usually came with. It was familiar yet different, because ultimately the things he knew best were still right there: his breath escaping his lungs in bursts as he dove, the satisfying slap of a ball against his hand, his trust in the accuracy of his setter’s tosses, the comfort of glancing to his side and seeing Oikawa deeply concentrated, flushed with adrenaline _(bringing out his best always, Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa)._

But in beach volleyball, the _new_ was equally captivating. The squish of the sand between his toes, the vulnerable feeling brought by more exposed skin, not to mention the dependence and teamwork required in a duo. It was so different than that of a team, so much more vital.

An echo of earlier in his head,

_'Nothing beats mine and Iwa-chan’s perfect trust!'_

Hajime ponders, maybe their perfect trust, established over a decade and a half of friendship, is what made beach volleyball so riveting. Maybe it's why they were so good at it, that it’s what regular volleyball had been lacking, so much so he was able to give it up for biology textbooks and medical scrubs.

_Or maybe it’s just the sun messing with my head._

Oikawa is still looking at him expectantly, like a kid in a candy store waiting for his mom to pass him a ¥500 coin and say _‘buy whatever you like sweetie’._

Hajime lets out a resigned sigh. Really, he can’t say no to this boy. All he ever does is indulge him.

“Fine, on one condition.”

Oikawa perks up considerably, “Oh?”

“You can’t let it dominate our entire vacation.“ Hajime insists, stern, “We came here to relax, and I know how obsessive you get when there’s competition involved. So we play for fun, not to win.”

“For fun, not to win.” Oikawa parrots earnestly, “I promise.”

He holds out his pinky finger, an offer to seal their promise officially. They’ve done this since they were actual kids, and for some reason haven't really stopped. Perhaps because the gesture has never failed them.

Hajime hooks his finger around his best friend's,

“I’ll hold you to it.”

 

~

 

Matsukawa keeps true to what he mentioned to his uncle and takes them all to the free public volleyball courts. They park Hanamaki’s car in a lot on the mainland, then cross over the bridge to the island with their bags in hand. The courts aren't anything luxurious- there are about ten of them, most of which appear to be in use when they get there. There’s a tiny rental stand nearby, as well as a free locker room/bathroom complex. The boys even brought their own ball, saving them the entire ¥200 it would have cost to rent.

They’re heading over to an empty court nearest to the shore when a strangely familiar sounding voice cries out from beside them, “Nice kill, Suga!”

“Oi, isn't that the captain of Karasuno?” Hanamaki points to the pair playing in the court beside the one they’ve claimed, “And that other guy… the vice captain right?"

"I think he was the reserve setter." Matsukawa supplies.

“You're right!” Oikawa gently shakes Hajime’s shoulder, “Let’s go say hi!”

The individuals in question appear to be volleying a ball back and forth between them, perhaps playing a casual game of one-on-one, so they don't seem to be interrupting anything important.

“Yaho~!” Oikawa calls out, sauntering over, “If it isn't Sawamura-kun and Refreshing-kun!”

 _“Refreshing-kun?”_ Matsukawa whispers to Hajime, who shakes his head.

“Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san.” Sawamura Daichi voices his surprise at seeing his former rivals, and the ball nearly hits him in the face when his opponent sends it back over.

“Did you run into a friend, Daichi?” his silver-haired companion ducks under the net to join them, “Oh, it's Seijou!”

“Technically, not anymore.” Matsukawa notes.

“Sorry I can’t remember your names.” Sawamura tells Hanamaki and Matsukawa, expression sheepish, “But you were middle blockers right? Numbers 2 and 3? Er, or was it 3 and 2?"

“I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, number _1."_ Hanamaki answers cheekily, holding out a hand ("Hah! You _wish,_ Makki!").

“Matsukawa Issei.” the other middle blocker follows suit.

“Sawamura Daichi. Nice to meet you again.” Sawamura shakes with them both, unabashedly friendly despite the previous antagonism between their schools, “And this is my… uh, I-I mean, t-this is...” he looks at Sugawara, panicked for some reason, but his teammate just smiles pleasantly and offers them handshakes as well.

“Sugawara Koushi, Karasuno's former vice captain. Feel free to call me Suga, though. Everyone does."

This close, Hajime can’t help but note how fair he is, paler than Oikawa, even, with eyelashes longer than he thought possible on a guy. And with hair that light, there’s no way he’s completely Japanese.

"What brings you all so far out from Miyagi?” Sawamura asks.

“We’re vacationing!” Oikawa proclaims animatedly, “Mattsun’s uncle has a place nearby. How about you?”

“Us too.” Sugawara informs them, “Our hotel is just across the bridge.”

Hajime spots Sugawara and Sawamura exchange a _look,_ but doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s not really his business though, so he doesn’t dwell upon it much. He realizes he’s been silently staring this entire conversation thus far, and Oikawa’s told him he’s unintentionally scary when he does, so he puts in his own two cents,

“Have you been here long?”

“Actually, we only checked in two days ago. We're staying until August.” Sawamura then notices the volleyball in Oikawa’s hands, “Oh, are you guys here to play too?”

“Of course! Hey, we should play a little game of three-on-three!”

Frankly, Hajime is surprised that Oikawa’s being so genuinely friendly towards their former competition, especially considering how much Seijou’s loss to Karasuno and subsequent disqualification from nationals had affected his morale in the following weeks.

He knows it wasn’t Karasuno, or Kageyama Tobio, specifically, that had him so down. It was moreso Oikawa’s disappointment in his own abilities, despite Hajime’s constant reminders that volleyball was a team effort, along with the finality of their loss.

“Three-on-three sounds fun.” Hanamaki agrees.

“Definitely.” echoes Matsukawa, already stretching out his arms.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa prompts Hajime for approval. He doesn’t appear to have any ulterior motives, so Hajime figures, _why the hell not?_

“I’m in.”

Sugawara places a hand on Sawamura’s broad shoulder, which already has a distinct farmer’s tan. “And you, Daichi?”

 _He calls him Daichi?_ Hajime notices, impressed. _They must be really close. Closer than me and Oikawa, maybe._

“Let's play!”

After setting their stuff aside, they determine their teams by dividing up Hanamaki and Matsukawa, sending Matsukawa over to join Sawamura and Sugawara. It works out perfectly this way, giving each team a setter, ace, and middle blocker trio.

They play by the rules of regular volleyball rather than beach volleyball, since there’s three of them. The first set sizzles by slowly, a loss to Sawamura-Sugawara-Matsukawa at 23-25. The rough start doesn’t affect Oikawa’s good mood, however. Even though they manage to steal the second set at 25-23, the Karasuno boys and Matsukawa win the last, though just by the skin of their teeth at 24-26.

To Hajime’s commendation, Oikawa remains not at all phased by what is not technically or even remotely their second loss to Karasuno. Instead, his best friend is practically glowing with mirth. He had been beaming zealously the entire game, adrenaline pumping with his usual fervour. Hajime hasn’t seen him so enthusiastic yet at ease while playing volleyball since before their aforementioned loss.

He watches Oikawa chat amicably with Sugawara about his setting techniques, and can’t help but be inclined to believe that he’s doing as Hajime had asked of him yesterday, that is, to play for the fun of it rather than for victory. The possibility that his testy best friend is honouring his promise tightens something in Hajime’s stomach, transforming instead into a burst of fondness. It must show on his face, because Matsukawa shoots him a suspicious glance.

“Hey, you guys should sign up for the tournament with us tomorrow!” Oikawa exclaims brightly, all heads turning in his direction, “You'll be here until August anyways, and Mattsun said there’s a prize for participation!”

Matsukawa amends, "And an even sweeter one for the winners. Last year it was two tickets to a fancy onsen in Hakone."

“Uh,” Sugawara bites his lip, hesitant for some reason. “I don’t know...”

Hanamaki pipes in, “We were gonna grab lunch while we’re in town before we sign up tomorrow so if you like, think on it tonight and let us know.”

“What do you say, Suga?” Sawamura asks gently.

Sugawara sighs, though he’s looking at Sawamura when he says,

“We'll think about it.”

 

~

 

After exchanging cell numbers, Sugawara and Sawamura bid their farewells for the day. The remaining Seijou boys opt to play a few two-on-two games in the team combinations they’ll be using in the tournament.

“Let’s grab some drinks from Ji-san's rental shop.” Matsukawa proposes when their limbs are shaky and their shoulders are burning from the hours spent out under the blistering sun.

“Good idea.” Tooru agrees, swallowing thickly.

They dust off the volleyball and toss it in Hanamaki’s trunk before heading over on foot, since the rental shop isn’t too far from the courts.

Holding their sandals in their hands, they walk along the edge of the beach in pairs, Matsukawa and Hanamaki up front leading the way, with Tooru and Iwaizumi trudging behind them. Every few steps they take, the receding shore comes out to tickle their ankles and smooth away their footprints. The area becomes more and more crowded the closer towards the main strip that they go.

He and Iwaizumi are comfortably silent, opting instead to listen to the sounds of the beach around them. Their friends are chatting lightly, all while children splash around and scream. Tooru finds himself replaying their afternoon in his head like one would a film reel, analyzing each game, wondering what improvements might need to be made for them to win that grand prize, when Iwaizumi suddenly blurts,

“Stop!”

He stretches an arm out to bar Tooru from moving, and uses the other to point to the patch of sand Tooru was about to step on. There, a little hermit crab scuttles mindlessly along.

“Good eyes, Iwa-chan.” he remarks, moving around it.

Hajime lets out a sigh as the creature scurries away unharmed. “Hey, remember when you found that really cool shell when we went to Nobiru?” he asks, “And then it got washed away when we put it on top of our sand castle?”

“Of course, I cried and you promised you’d find me a cooler one.” Memories of that day replace those from earlier in Tooru’s mind. He reminisces the good old days, way before 12 page essays and sleepless nights, obligation upon obligation still years ahead in the future. “Then you _did_ find a cooler one, but when we replaced it on the castle it grew legs and ran away.”

“A hermit crab.” Iwaizumi remembers the sharp squeal a young Oikawa had let out when the crab revealed itself from within it’s protective shell, “Hard to believe how long ago that was.”

“Mhm.” Tooru agrees, and Iwaizumi turns his head to stare into the horizon.

“Us, we’re so different now, but the beach… the beach is exactly the same as I remember.”

“Ne, Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

Tooru splashes through the tide when it reaches his feet. “This trip was a great idea. I… I really needed this. We both did.”

 _You always know just what I need,_ he thinks.

Iwaizumi has an uncharacteristically far away look on his face, as if he’s hypnotized by the rise and fall of the shoreline, each crest and trough of the waves, when he says,

“Let’s make the most of it, yeah?”

 

~

 

As promised, the following day Sawamura and Sugawara meet the Seijou boys in town for lunch. They go to a moderately busy Denny’s nearby their hotel, and settle down in a booth beside the window for blessed bottomless coffee and an American-style breakfast.

“Suga and I have decided to enter the tournament.” Sawamura announces, getting right to the point.

“Great!” Tooru chirps.

Sugawara scratches the back of his neck. “Truthfully, I was worried that playing against you guys in a competition would bring up memories of last time, and well…” he trails off, circumspect, “I was just being paranoid. It was months ago, and we had a lot of fun yesterday so,” he nods humbly, then comes back up with an earnest expression. “Thank you for the invitation, I look forward to playing with you all again!”

“Hey, no need to be so formal.” Iwaizumi sets down his third refill of coffee, “Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and me have all given up playing professionally anyways. Nothing to worry about."

“We’re just here to have a good time before post-secondary swallows us whole.” Hanamaki concurs.

Matsukawa nods in agreement. "That's all in the past."

Under the table, Tooru’s fist clenches tightly enough to leave crescent shaped nail marks in his skin, unnoticed by all but himself. He's tentatively accepted that he’ll no longer get to play with his friends on the professional court again, but the casualness of the reminder still snakes it's way around his heart and constricts, thorny and painful.

He supposes it'll take some more time before the idea feels less like poking an open wound with a fork.

“Alright then, I’m glad.” Sugawara relaxes, cutting into his mountain of pancakes. “I’m not playing anymore either, though Daichi still is.”

“Have you been scouted?” Iwaizumi asks him.

“Uh, yes.” Karasuno’s former captain admits shyly, “Meiji offered me a partial scholarship, as well as a spot on their team as a reserve wing spiker.”

“Oi, Shittykawa! Did you hear that?” Iwaizumi smacks Tooru (who’s been stirring circles in his chocolate milk for the past five minutes) on the back of his head, “Sawamura-san's gonna be on your team in university.”

“Eh? Seriously?”

“Oikawa got scouted by Meiji too.” he tells Sawamura, who is _flabbergasted_ by this news.

Tooru smiles amicably at his former rivalling captain. The opportunity to play with someone familiar, even if not from Seijou, is certainly a welcome surprise.

_Though I wouldn’t say the same about Tobio or Ushiwaka, I’d much rather spike a ball into their faces._

“I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.” Sawamura beams back at him.

Tooru discovers he really means it when he says,

“I’m looking forward to it!”

 

~

 

After lunch, the boys decide to stop at some souvenir shops on their way to the town centre where the tournament sign up sheets are posted. Hajime, who’s never really bought anyone a souvenir in his life, picks out an assortment of gifts to bring back to his family. He gets his mom a porcelain wind chime to hang above the kitchen window, and his dad a blue marble ashtray with the kanji for Enoshima engraved in the centre. Oikawa picks up a hand painted fan for his mother, a seashell encrusted photo frame for his sister, as well as bottle of colourful sand for his nephew. _His_ father is the trickiest to shop for, and by Hajime's suggestion he decides to go with a sleek fountain pen that comes with a little stand. It's something the diligent businessman will make use of, surely.

“Iwa-chan, look!” Oikawa shakes Hajime’s shoulder excitedly, then points at a huge billboard advert for Enoshima Aquarium overhead. "We _have_ to check it out!”

“Our hotel has discount coupons in the lobby if you’re interested.” Sawamura supplies, “Suga and I were thinking of stopping by too.”

"Maybe we can go next Wednesday for your birthday." Hajime suggests.

“Yesssss! I wanna see the jellyfish!” Oikawa gushes, “You know, jellyfish are the closest things we’ve got to aliens. They can glow in the dark, create rainbows, clone themselves, emit goo- not to mention electrocute their enemies. There’s even a species that’s immortal."

“That's pretty cool.” Hajime grants him. He’s always found Oikawa’s geeky enthusiasm about space rather endearing, even after being forced into watching obscure UFO sighting documentaries on countless occasions.

Love for sci-fi movies has always been a commonality for them, a go-to way to unwind after an evening running around the gym sweating and yelling. Their combined DVD collection had grown too big for both of their shelves once they’d reached middle school, so they’d saved up their allowances and split the cost for another one three times the size. Taking the train alone to an IKEA in Sendai for the first time had actually been one of their earliest adventures, and they’d laughed all afternoon at the strange foreign names of the furniture in the store. Oikawa’s sister had ended up leaving her college class early that evening to help them build the thing, because they couldn’t for the life of them understand the instructions.

“The ocean is 95% unexplored," Oikawa is still babbling on, “Really, it’s just as mysterious and unimaginable as space.” He gazes dreamily at the billboard, a massive purple octopus with beady black eyes stares back.

 _'Enoshima Aquarium- where staring isn't creepy',_ the sign says. Hajime might beg to differ on that though.

“Wait, how the hell can a jellyfish be immortal?” Hanamaki asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, you see-” Animatedly, Oikawa rambles on with explanations, but Hajime stops paying attention to the conversation, his mind instead wandering to uncharted territory, breaking the surface of deep, dangerous waters.

He watches Oikawa's mouth as it moves to shape his words. His hands, nimble but calloused, as they make telling gestures.

He thinks of Sugawara calling Sawamura _Daichi,_ and thinks to himself, like an afterthought,

_Why don't I call you Tooru?_

 

~

 

Outside on the balcony, Tooru can just barely make out the soft lull of Iwaizumi's breathing from where he's asleep inside. It's faint but steady, like a heartbeat, but only discernible if he tunes the rest of the world around him out.

From where he leans against the iron railing he can see the first inklings of daybreak tease under the skirts of the horizon, which glitters and sparkles with the reflections of the stars. There are fishing boats in the distance, floating along like sakura petals fallen into a pond.

It's probably around 4am, and Tooru has been tossing and turning restlessly all night, unable to sink into the silky depths of slumber. Sleeping next to Iwaizumi certainly hasn’t helped ease his nerves- he’s considered pulling out the futon from the closet after all.

Insomnia is nothing foreign to him, he’s oftentimes gotten trapped in his own head by the shackles of his own incessant consciousness (and you can bet Iwaizumi has scolded him about it come morning). It's unsurprising a mere change in location would make no difference.

But the solitude of the balcony makes for a nice place to think, and for the first time, he dares himself to address that which he has been expertly avoiding- the elephant in the room, so to speak.

Where to even start?

At this point it’s undeniable how very _attracted_ he is to Iwaizumi, and it’s telling that the fact that Iwaizumi is a boy doesn't repulse Tooru in the slightest when all his life he’s been taught that it should.

 _So I might be... into dudes,_ Tooru thinks, and he’s relieved when a Hokusai-esque tsunami doesn’t suddenly rise above and consume him at the admission.

When he really thinks about it, it’s actually a big part of what he likes about Iwaizumi, his _maleness,_ because it's what makes him so _him._ Though whether it bothers Iwaizumi is another question.

But perhaps the biggest problem is that Tooru has known Iwaizumi Hajime his entire life, from the day he learned to tie his own shoelaces to the day he filed for his first student loan. He's known Iwaizumi at five, at ten, at fifteen, and now at seventeen, almost eighteen. He's watched the boy shoot up like a sprout, filling in widthwise with muscle where Tooru instead grew lanky with height. He's seen Iwaizumi with his face covered in snot, crying the day his cat swallowed the goldfish he won at a festival, but also scrunched up with focus as he aimed his spike between two particularly monstrous blockers, their outstretched arms tall and looming over his prickly head. He's seen that same face covered with tiny cuts when he botched up his first shave, and alive with mirth, laughing into his shoyu ramen as Tooru spilled his own all over his uniform, but offering up his jacket to cover it nonetheless.

They've had a lifetime of friendship, of growing and learning and living together. So, pray tell, why isn't it _brotherly_ affection that Tooru feels? Wouldn't that make more sense, isn't that what getting older with someone makes them to you? Not an obsession but a relation. Yet when Tooru thinks about the nature of his relationship with Iwaizumi in comparison to his relationship with his sister they exist in his mind as two affections very different from each other.

Choice has kept him and Iwaizumi together all these years, not geography or obligation. It was because of their own free wills that they've remained so meticulously interwoven, like two halves of a whole- day and night, yin and yang. It was never a choice with his sister, but that's what it means to have a sibling, to learn about each other's good and bad sides and to get along because you’re family and you have to. Not because you want to. Not because you have a choice. _(But is falling in love ever really a choice?)_

So he can’t pinpoint when he started feeling this way, it’s been a natural buildup now reaching its precipice, a tidal wave mounting, a hurricane not yet named, ready to crash down.

Tooru cradles his head in his hands, sighing into the crisp, early morning air. The advancing sunrise creeps further up the sky, spilling like tendrils onto the inky surface of the ocean.

With university plans sorted out he’s at least bought himself time, so he convinces himself he can ride the wave for a little while, float atop it, maybe, until it’s safe to sink back down.

 _What I need now is a distraction,_ Tooru decides, staring down at his palms bathed in the magentas and golds of the rising sun. He wiggles his fingers, and they suddenly itch to feel a volleyball between them.

 

~

 

The local beach volleyball tournament is divided into three pools of 8, with spots for 24 teams on a first come first serve basis. Since registration is still open for the next few days, there’s plenty of space for all three Seijou and Karasuno pairs to compete in whichever section they choose.

“You’ll need to each pick a team name.” the volunteer running the registration tells them, tapping her pen against her clipboard, “This is an all ages event, so anything is fine as long as there’s no profanity.”

Grinning mischievously at each other, Matsukawa and Hanamaki opt for the same name they’ve used during the past three tournaments.

“The _Aceholes?_ Seriously? Did you not hear what she just told us?”

“What?” Hanamaki trills at Hajime’s incredulous glare, “There’s technically no profanity so it’s allowed.”

The volunteer rolls her eyes and scrawls it down anyways, clearly used to this silliness. Oikawa, meanwhile, comes up with the ingenious and suitably nerdy name May the Court Be With You. Hajime just goes with it since it makes his partner happy and he doesn’t care much either way. The volunteer jots it down, along with Sawamura and Sugawara's name, the Serve-ivors.

"So, the Aceholes will play in Pool A, May the Court Be With You in Pool B, and the Serve-ivors in Pool C. Got it?"

"Perfect!" Oikawa quips. Hajime is just glad none of them will be facing each other right off the bat.

"The details of your first matches will be posted on the community bulletin at the volleyball courts by noon on Sunday. It'll tell you where and when you'll be playing." She hands them each a green paper wristband, "Make sure you're wearing those somewhere visible during the competition. They’ll also get you some free treats during the festival, so keep them even if you don’t make it all the way."

"Thank you!”

"Can't wait!"

Even though the games don't begin until Monday, the elation in the air amongst the group is thick and intoxicating. Contagious, even.

Unanimous in their agreement, from there they head straight to the volleyball courts, more than happy to practice for the remainder of the weekend.

 

~

 

He's not nervous, never nervous. Rather, he likes to believe the weightless, jittery sensation permeating through his core is anticipation, exhilaration.

Okay, maybe he’s a little nervous. They’ve been going to the public courts nearly every day, but he hasn't played in a competitive setting since, well...

_Let's not think about that._

Predictably, the majority of the preliminary matches are taking place at the very place they’ve been frequenting since they got here, though the finals will supposedly be held on a special court at the end of the month a day or two before the big summer festival.

Tooru and Iwaizumi make their way over to court #3, where a referee and a pair of two foreign girls, one tall and blonde, the other a curvy redhead, await them.

 _They must be our first competitors... the Volleybabes, was it?_  

He’s sure he’s seen them around, probably even played beside them a few times. Politely, they shake hands, and following tradition, rock-paper-scissors for the serve. Iwaizumi wins with rock.

“You’ve got this, Iwaizumi!” Hanamaki yells from where he and the others are watching from the sidelines.

“What about me?” Tooru gripes.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa shrug in tandem.

“Good luck, Oikawa-san!” calls Sawamura instead, followed by a spirited thumbs up from Sugawara.

"You can do it!"

“Makki, Mattsun, I’m trading you both for Sawamura-kun and Suga-chan. You don’t deserve my friendship.” he sticks his tongue out at them.

“Don’t forget who invited you here.” Matsukawa deadpans.

“And also who'll be driving you home.” Hanamaki adds.

“Ignore them, we’ve got this.” Iwaizumi slaps him roughly on the back, hand lingering just a moment longer than usual. It takes the grand sum of all of Tooru’s composure to pretend the skin of that hand, even through the thin cotton of his tank top, doesn’t burn right through at the point of contact.

"Knock 'em dead with your killer service aces." Iwaizumi says. “We can win in two sets.”

"You've got too much faith in me." Tooru offers him a wary smile.

His partner smirks right back. "Course I do."

They get into position, and the referee blows his whistle. It is only when the ball is slamming lightning-fast into the sand at their feet, their opponents gawking at it as if it were instead some sort of massive white bullet, does Tooru realize how starving he was to do this again.

 

~

 

It was obvious to Hajime that they’d win their first game. The redheaded girl was clearly a rookie, with no experience in indoor volleyball like he and Oikawa had. It was the blonde who scored the few points they’d hastily acquired by the end of the second set, not even making it to the third. Even those meagre points had largely been due to a few mistakes on Oikawa and Hajime’s part.

Having just barely broken a sweat, May the Court Be With You’s first victory was an elementary affair.

Still jittery and lightheaded from their win, they decide to hop over to the court where the Aceholes, Hanamaki and Matsukawa, should be playing next against a pair called the Volleyballers.

“I am _so_ not cheering for them,” Oikawa grumbles captiously. “I saw Makki take _pictures_ when I face-planted into the sand trying to catch that one serve.”

“He better send me those.” Hajime hums, “So I can make one my lockscreen.”

“Such a traitor, Iwa-chan!”

They join the Karasuno boys on the makeshift sidelines to discover that the Aceholes have just begun their first set.

“Good game, guys.” Sawamura greets them.

“Let’s hope we get lucky too.” Sugawara adds, crossing his fingers.

 _Luck?_ Hajime thinks back to Oikawa’s calculatingly deadly service aces, accuracy achieved only through countless bloodied palms, muscle sprains, and shaking limbs. Years and years of fastidious, devout practice after hours in the Aoba Josai gymnasium.

_I’d call it talent._

“Thanks for the support.” he says, meaning it nonetheless.

For the next half hour, the four of them dutifully watch the Aceholes’ match, shouting encouragement and whatnot all the while.

Despite his prior complaints, Oikawa inevitably gives in too. His captainship always gets the best of his petulance, he never was one to hold true grudges against his friends.

 _As for his enemies…_ Hajime has been likened to believe that Oikawa Tooru will scorn Kageyama Tobio and Ushijima Wakatoshi well into the afterlife. The image of a ghostly Oikawa rising from his grave to throw off Kageyama’s serves isn't entirely hard to imagine.

They are nearing the halfway mark of the second set when an alarmingly loud “HEY HEY HEY!” snatches their attention.

“Is that…?”

“Well shit.” Oikawa mutters this into Hajime’s ear as Bokuto Koutarou from Fukurodani and Kuroo Tetsurou from Nekoma swagger over to their already unlikely little group.

“Oho, what’s this?” Kuroo lifts his aviator sunglasses and pushes them atop his ebony mop of hair. Hajime sees that both he and Bokuto are wearing similar eyewear, along with an ensemble of board shorts and wife-beater tank tops that read _LIFEGUARD_ across the front. “Where was _our_ invite to this retired captain honeymoon?”

“Honeymoon?” Hajime parrots, and Sugawara for some reason doubles over laughing, absolutely losing it.

 _“Suga,”_ Sawamura hisses under his breath.

 _Am I missing something?_ Hajime is dubious, but the Karasuno vice captain shakes his ashy head,

“I just can't believe how many people from high school we’ve run into out here,” he rasps, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes, "Like we're in some kind of anime."

“What he means to say is, it's a small world!” Sawamura interjects, greeting their acquaintances with gusto. Even Sugawara offers them each a friendly hug- Bokuto all but throws the shorter teenager over his shoulder.

"You're so much tinier without your team of shorties!"

"Shush, you." the other setter giggles. "You're just a six foot monster. We can't all be wide and tall."

“You two are looking good.” Kuroo slaps an amused Sawamura on the back, then turns his attention to the outlier Seijou pair who, admittedly, have been watching the exchange intrigued by the unexpected familiarity between the rivalling players, “Long time no see, Oikawa. Iwaizumi.”

“Hi there, Kuroo-kun.” Oikawa crosses his arms, a cheeky smirk stretched across his face, “Nice tattoo.” The Nekoma captain certainly hadn’t had that massive black panther on his shoulder in high school.

“Thanks, her name’s Mikasa.” Kuroo offers Oikawa a firm handshake, then turns to Hajime. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you without the other.”

Hajime isn't given the time to shake Kuroo’s proffered hand- Bokuto decides to pounce on he and Oikawa both, capturing them in a rigid headlock, one head under each arm.

“This has gotta be fate!” he hoots, his vivacious strength unyielding. “I’ve always wanted us all to hang out! Like a super exclusive captain-only club! And now it’s finally happening!” His arms tighten around their necks, and Hajime nearly chokes in his relentless hold. _Monster_ isn't much of a stretch...

“Help! Suffocating-!” Oikawa lets out a startled squawk, struggling like a captive in a noose made up of Bokuto Koutarou’s headlock. The brawny teenager doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, is that Hanamaki and Matsukawa playing?” Kuroo asks the general group.

Hajime can’t help his surprise that Kuroo knows their names, especially the two former middle blockers. Aside from a single chaotic training camp in Fukushima during first year and a few dutiful handshakes before a game, they haven't ever really interacted.

“They’re wiping the floor with those poor suckers.”

"Really?" Bokuto releases his unfortunate prisoners, ("Oh thank _god")_ , and turns his attention instead to the game, opting to flail around and shout, “GET ‘EM GUYS!”

Sore but unruffled, Hajime stretches out the kinks in his unfortunate neck, "Bokuto would murder me at arm wrestling,” he mutters, “Don't tell Hanamaki that though."

“Yeah, and my hair’s all flat now too.” Oikawa grumbles.

Hajime takes a step closer to him with his hands held up, “Want me to make it flatter?”

“What _beef_ do you have against my hair, Iwa-chan?!”

“You keep complaining about it so I’m just trying to _help-_ ”

They bicker, Hajime trying and mostly succeeding at giving Oikawa a noogie. Sawamura meanwhile asks the newcomers, “So are you guys, uh, working here?” He eyes their matching _LIFEGUARD_ shirts suspiciously.

Kuroo and Bokuto burst out laughing in response.

"Never change, Sawamura." the former wheezes, “Nah, this is our team uniform.”

“You know, for the memes.” adds the latter.

Sawamura shakes his head at both of them, very clearly thinking something along the lines of _why did I ask._

“Are you in the tournament too?”

“Yup, we actually won our first match in Pool A about an hour ago.” says Kuroo.

“We’re going for a triple win! Three year champions!” Bokuto holds a palm out to his partner, and they exchange a complicated handshake which involves spinning in a circle, strange animal noises, and a slow motion dab before slapping them together (Hajime only knows what a dab is because Hanamaki and Matsukawa had gone around photobombing everyone during graduation doing so).

This seems to have grabbed Oikawa’s attention, “Did you just say _champions?”_ he gasps, face flushed scarlet. He attempts to shove Hajime’s incriminating hands away from his head, and _huh,_ Hajime finds Oikawa's rosy cheeks weirdly distracting today.

Oikawa seizes the opening to run and hide behind Sawamura. "You've _won_ this thing before?"

“Twice, actually.” Kuroo and Bokuto share a gratifying smile, “It’s a pretty quick train ride from here to Tokyo so we do this every summer for the reward.”

“Plus it’s fun!”

“I’m surprised Hanamaki and Matsukawa haven't mentioned it to us.” Hajime muses, glancing at his other friends as they leap across the sand, completely absorbed in their game.

“Maybe they're still bitter we beat them last year.” Kuroo contends, watching Hanamaki send a ruthless spike over the net, right through their opponents arms. “Though they actually came pretty close, we only won by a few points in the fifth set.”

Oikawa peeks over Sawamura’s protective shoulder, “That’s Makki and Mattsun for you,” he declares, “Silent but deadly, and never ones to give up halfway.”

Hajime also can't help feeling a little proud of his other friends for getting so far on their own. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are an underestimated duo, he thinks. A best friend power couple, just like he and Oikawa, Sawamura and Sugawara, and now, Kuroo and Bokuto too.

“Well this summer should be a game changer,” Sawamura points out, “What with all eight of us competing.”

“Is that so?” Kuroo questions, but his easygoing expression tells Hajime he’s more excited than worried about it. “Should be interesting.”

"Hell yes! This is gonna be great!" Bokuto exclaims.

Oikawa, ever an antagonistic hothead, can’t help but chime in with a haughty yet fierce, “Well don’t bank on that triple win just yet!”

The rivalry going on is certainly friendly right now, but Hajime can only hope it remains that way.

 

~

 

Kuroo and Bokuto stick around to watch the Serve-ivor's game right after the Aceholes’, and by some stroke of luck, in the end all four pairs come out victorious in their very first rounds. Hajime supposes that the next, which is set for tomorrow, will mostly likely see some of the former rivals squaring off against each other, just like old times.

“Hey! We should all go out and celebrate tonight!” Bokuto proclaims, his spirits high and enthusiastic. He congratulated the latter Seijou pair with the same exuberance as he did the rest of them; Hajime has quickly learned that Bokuto Koutarou is a very excitable person, sort of like a ginormous human puppy.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa hadn’t been surprised at all to see the Tokyo captains in Enoshima. In fact, they greeted them as if they’d been expecting it.

“This _is_ the first time all of us have really shared a victory.” Matsukawa adds thoughtfully. "Going out would be fun."

The suggestion elicits a sceptical frown from Sawamura. “Where exactly did you have in mind?” he asks, uncertain. None of them are exactly legal, but Hajime has a feeling that’s never really stopped the big city kids before.

“There’s a bar in town.” Kuroo says, “I know the owner, he’ll let us in as long as we behave.” He glares pointedly at Bokuto, who scratches the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

“I’ve never been to a bar before!” Eagerly, Sugawara turns to Sawamura, who remains hesitant at the idea. Hajime supposes that Sawamura is the more responsible half of the Karasuno pair. Sort of like Oikawa and himself, though Hajime can say he’s at least _tried_ alcohol before, and not just with his family on special occasions. It doesn’t seem like Sawamura can say the same… he comes off as more of a straight-edge, goes to sleep at 9, does all of his homework two weeks before it’s due kind of guy, but that isn’t to say Hajime respects him any less for it. Overindulgence has never really troubled him, unlike a _certain_ individual who'd eat milk bread every morning for breakfast or practice volleyball into the dead hours of the night if Hajime didn't intervene.

“Well, I’m down.” he relents, because right now they’re on vacation, so why the hell not?

Hanamaki offers a thumbs up. Matsukawa nods in agreement.

Oikawa follows suit, “Me too, then.”

“C’mon Daichi!” Sugawara snatches up and squeezes Sawamura’s wrists, “Kuroo knows the owner, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“Live a little!” Bokuto pipes in, “A bit of fun never hurt anyone!”

“I’ll keep this ruffian in check, I promise.” Kuroo nudges his partner playfully in the ribs, which earns him an indignant “Bro!”

All eyes on Sawamura, he eventually sighs, then throws his hands up in defeat. “Alright then. This should be eventful.”

“But not _too_ eventful!”

“Right, right.”

The eight of them pile into Hanamaki’s van, Kuroo claiming the passenger's seat to give directions, while the other six squish three and three in the back. Thank god for fold up seats, because driving illegally to go to a bar underage might've pushed the limits of Sawamura's rebel agenda.

The pub that Kuroo takes them to is a little dungy, as well as on the outermost edges of town, but Hajime supposes it’s reasonable to believe none of the mainstream, more popular places would let minors in anyways. A worn down sign displays the word _UNDISONUS_ in black English cursive, but he hasn’t the slightest idea what it actually means.

After parking the van on a side street nearby, the seven of them shuffle inside behind Kuroo, taking the interior of the bar in.  

“This place is a little…” Hajime whispers to Oikawa.

“Gaudy?” Oikawa supplies, “Ostentatious? Garish?”

“I was gonna say _interesting_ … but yes.”

The theme of _UNDISONUS_ is without a doubt, nautical. Evident by the tables made out of wooden wheels, the dried out starfish pinned to the walls, as well as the extensive collection of model ships displayed on any and all surfaces; squashed between liquor bottles, sitting atop mantelpieces, some even hanging over above their heads from the ceiling. With its swinging double doors, oversized beer kegs, and round wooden stools, Hajime half expects a 15th century pirate crew to march right in and demand all the grog they've got.

“Wouldja’ look at what the cat dragged in.” says a rough, accented voice.

Kuroo saunters over to the bar where a stocky, tattoo-covered man regards him pointedly from behind it, his thickly muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. It's very obvious by his coppery hair and prominent nose that he's not Japanese, but some kind of European. Irish, maybe?

“Guess that makes me the cat.” Kuroo contends, shooting the bartender a half-smile cavalier enough to confirm it.

 _Only Kuroo Tetsurou could say something so stupid and make it sound cool,_ Hajime thinks.

“Hey, Arnie.”

The man called Arnie must be the owner, because he gives them all a gruff nod and instructs them to have a seat at one of the larger tables near the back. Hajime sits at the end next to Matsukawa, across from Oikawa. He takes a look around and notices there's only a few other men and one woman in here, though that might just be because it's barely 8:30pm.

“Should we just get rounds and nachos for the table?” Bokuto suggests, not even looking at the menu. “Then we can all just pitch in for the bill.”

“You'll make everyone broke if we do that.” Kuroo smacks him on the bicep, “You consume the equivalent of like, ten people on your own.”

“Well.” Bokuto shrugs, sheepish. “Okay that’s true.”

“Hey, if you like, I'll drive us home. I'm not going to drink anything.” Oikawa says to Hanamaki, who's been looking at the food menu.

“Eh? Seriously?”

Oikawa holds the drink menu out to him instead, “Yeah, take it.”

“Guess I’m leaving Old Blue in your hands tonight.” replies Hanamaki, tacking on a ‘captain’ at the end for good measure. He fishes out his keys and slides them across the table. “Please be kind to her.”

“I’ll kiss her goodnight and everything.” assures Oikawa.

“You’re really not gonna drink?” Hajime asks, surprised by his decision to be the sober one tonight. Oikawa went out more than anyone else on the team in high school- not terribly often mind you, since captaining a volleyball team then studying for entrance exams kept him sufficiently busy, but still, Hajime has one of the drunken 2am voicemails he received when Oikawa _did_ forever saved on his phone:

 

**VOICEMAIL VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**1 February 20XX, 2:34 AM**

 

 **Oikawa Tooru** :

_“Iwa-chan, *hic* Iwa-chan I hate these people- 'Call th' aliens to come save me- M’ dying of boredom *cough* Just, beam me up please- I miss y-"_

_“Tooru-kun! There you are! You’ve been out here for a loooooong time- wait, who are talking to? Don’t tell me you have a girlfrie-”_

 

 **01.04 minutes** [saved to phone]

 

The voicemail ends there, barely a minute long. Hajime hadn’t had his cell on him for some reason or another so he couldn’t pick up, but when he saw the onslaught of missed calls and texts from his best friend assault his screen he was immediately storming out the door.

While he had no way of contacting extraterrestrial life nor the _Enterprise_ , he did do the next best thing; begrudgingly drag Oikawa's sorry ass home himself. A pitifully hungover captain wasn't exactly useful at morning practice, nor a good example for the first years.

 _We're not captains anymore, though._ Hajime reasons, but Oikawa’s insistence on sobriety tonight remains obstinate.

“I’m just not feeling it, okay?” is what he says, and Hajime narrows his eyes, suspicious, but he’s unsure what of, so he pushes the feeling away and orders himself a drink instead.

_He probably doesn’t want a headache during the game tomorrow. Or maybe he’s just ashamed of being super lightweight for his height._

“I’ll have some of your house sake.” he tells the bar owner when it's his turn to order. The man nods brusquely at him, then turns to the next person.

Up close, Hajime gets a better look at his plentiful tattoos. Monochromatic, dot work waves spiral up both his arms to his shoulders in captivating swirls, the curl of their crests peeking through his unbuttoned collar, licking up his thick neck. Hajime never thought much about tattoos before, but seeing them now makes him realize how intricate and beautiful they can be, like tendrils of ink, rippling against skin, almost like they're moving.

“I’d like to get a tattoo someday.” he mentions this a little later when the sake has begun its course through his system, leaving a trail tingly and warm.

Bokuto punches him in the arm hard enough to bruise lesser men. “Ink would totally suit you, bro!”

“Uh, really? You think so?”

“I can hook you up, I know a guy.” Kuroo chimes in. The comment earns him incredulous stares from the entire table. “I got Mikasa before I even graduated high school.”

“You know a guy for everything, don’t you?” Sawamura observes, reprehensive. "I'm kind of concerned."

Kuroo winks at him, “Shall I hook you up too?”

He chokes on his drink at this, and Hajime supposes legalities are redundant with Kuroo’s many connections.

“Thanks, but maybe in a few years.” Hajime concedes, “I’m not one to rush into things.”

He thinks he hears Oikawa mutter something like _‘I’ll say’,_ but with the fogginess thickening in his head and the music blasting in the background he can’t be certain, so he opts to ignore it.

Instead, he reaches again for his sake, sighing contentedly when the warm liquid goes down smooth.

It was just a fleeting thought anyways.

 

~

 

The night stretches on without hurry, and as the hours tick by and stack up, Tooru’s companions become more and more inebriated.

And Tooru, he really is the worst, can’t tear his eyes from his drunk best friend seated across the table.

Iwaizumi is _not_ making this easy for him. Not in the slightest. Tooru’s seen him tipsy once before at their Seijou VBC graduation party but it wasn't anything like _this._

He looks ethereal in the low lights, his honeyed skin, ever darker with all the sun he's been getting, practically glowing. His dimples appear when he laughs at something Bokuto says, and Tooru has to resist the urge to slap himself in the face, or dump one of the beer pitchers over his head, because Iwaizumi’s laughter, his brilliant smile and easy expression, even the dimples, aren’t as rare a sight as one would expect from his gruff demeanour but still they’re enchanting, so precious and important that Tooru finds himself stupefied in his chair, absolutely beguiled.

He is compelled to memorize every new variation of Iwaizumi’s face, document and catalogue each exaggerated expression he makes as if he were an undiscovered phenomenon found hiding at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

Having thought about it now, Tooru can admit that Iwaizumi has _always_ been good looking, and not just by the mathematics of appearance. Most of the team at Seijou hero-worshipped him in a way they never did their captain, because their ace was rational and capable and always, always kind. He was the knight in shining armor to Tooru’s voracious king, even when Tooru acted more like a tyrant. Iwaizumi’s always been the gallant hero who could snap your bones like chopsticks in an arm wrestling match, but would also make sure you were getting enough sleep and eating sufficient calories each and every day.

Tooru pops an edamame pod in his mouth, sucking off the salt with more force than necessary, feeling rather futile.

Iwaizumi is attractive and this is an irrefutable fact, much like how the sea appears blue and the sun sets in the west.

But the sea could be red and the sun headed straight for earth, the world could cease turning, the sky seep through the clouds, and Tooru would wake up and Iwaizumi would still be attractive. So as much as it is an irrefutable fact, it's also Tooru’s problem. Because at some point of Iwaizumi being attractive, everyone else stopped.

Tooru has casually dated a few girls, even partaken in a handful of aborted hook-ups at grubby clubs and karaoke bars. But in all of curtailed intimacy with others he instead saw flashes of his best friend. The same focused but tender eyes, calloused yet gentle touches. Calling his name would be a familiar rough, throaty voice- not Oikawa, not _Shittykawa,_ or _Idiotkawa,_ or even _captain,_ but _Tooru._

 _‘You care more about volleyball than you care about me’,_ they’d all tell him before they dumped him, and it wasn’t entirely untrue, because in high school volleyball and Iwaizumi Hajime existed as complementary halves of a single entity, there just wasn’t enough of his heart left to enamour another.

Flimsy, was his wall of excuses. And rare drunken Iwaizumi on a weeknight in a dive bar with the first two buttons of his green henley undone, laughing among people they never would have even _considered_ months prior is the piece of straw that breaks the camel’s back. It might as well be the apocalypse.

He’s avoided thinking about this because he knew that once he did, he’d be absolutely _fucked._

Tooru rips up the empty edamame pod into itty bitty pieces.

“You're right, he is shorter than he looks, isn' he?”

“An’ his hair isn’t as silky as it is n' those 'nterviews.”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Tooru then registers that his friends have been teasing him while his mind had wandered off. He had designated himself as the sober person for the night because he doesn’t trust himself not to do something completely reckless with the encouragement of alcohol in his system.

His friends giggle quite drunkenly and Tooru supposes he shouldn’t have let them all indulge to the extent where Bokuto knocks over a (thankfully empty) glass as he smashes his fist against the table with laughter.

“S ‘how high n’ mighty he acts.” Hanamaki slurs, taking another swig of his third (fourth?) sake bomb.

“An' th’ hair’s ‘cause he uses _every_ product on th’ shelf,” drawls Iwaizumi, ”almost brought a whooooole luggage full‘ve stuff here too.”

Tooru puffs out his cheeks, annoyed that even like this Iwaizumi makes jabs at him, “Why do you hate me so much, Iwa-chan?” he pouts, feeling even worse.

“Hate you?” Iwaizumi snorts, “Oikawa, y’ know I love y-" he stops mid-word, barely realizing what he was about to say. Tooru stares at him with his mouth agape, not unlike that of a fish. His heart has stopped dead in his chest, the plug abruptly pulled- a full body power outage.

“Uhhhh, I mean, I love _teasing_ you!" Iwaizumi hastily corrects himself, his cheeks a blistering crimson noticeable even in the dim of the bar, "S’ obviously what I was gonna say! Stop looking so offended! You- you make fun of me all th’ time! S' what we do!" he tacks on a fumbling "Idiotkawa!" for good measure.

The boys around them all snigger like young girls, then move on to the next trivial topic of conversation, just like that.

Tooru has shut down, though, shut them _out._ Trapped alone within his own software once again.

Because of course, of course Iwaizumi wasn’t about to say _those_ three words. How could he? Why would he? He's Iwaizumi, he knows Tooru better than anyone else. He's been there since forever, through every scraped ankle and failed English test, every frustrated tear that has ever rolled down Tooru's round cheeks.

Iwaizumi knows the _real_ Tooru, he’s broken down nearly all of his walls, therefore, he would never ever-

But Oikawa Tooru is at his core a pessimist. He doesn't consider all of the breathless laughs they've shared, nor every lingering high five or consonant heartbeat. He doesn't think about the nights they stayed up late watching rival school’s volleyball games munching on pocky sticks, later falling asleep atop each other with Tooru’s cheek smushed against Iwaizumi’s chest instead of his pillow, their breaths tickling each other’s skin like gentle wisps of butterfly wings.

It hasn’t occurred to him that maybe Iwaizumi chose to pursue a career in physiotherapy instead of the sport they both loved with every fibre of their beings because it killed him each time he saw Oikawa stumble on a knee made frail from overuse and over-ambition, or that Iwaizumi knew he wasn’t good enough to stand beside the genius setter on the professional court so he followed the only other way he knew how.

No, Tooru doesn't consider any of that because he's the kind of person who's always believed his mistakes are what define him. Not his accomplishments or abilities, never those. It's why he could never best Ushijima Wakatoshi, or even stupid little Kageyama Tobio. His _own_ shortcomings are always what have held him back. It's sardonic. It's _cruel._ And it's also precisely why he believes Iwaizumi could never mean it _that_ way.

The others, including Iwaizumi, have already forgotten about the outburst in their drunken haze of activities. Feeling more alone than ever, Tooru tacks on the most plastic smile he can manage and tries to get on with the night.

He spends the rest of the evening planning plays for tomorrow's game. He hasn’t even been drinking, but it's the only thing that helps him resist the urge to throw up.

Because why did he even want Iwaizumi to mean it in the first place?

 

~

 

Hajime’s head is pounding mercilessly against the back of his skull when he wakes up the next morning. As teenagers often do, they really didn’t think last night through enough, because when it's time for the next round of the beach volleyball tournament the following afternoon, they’re all trudging across the sand to the courts with queasy stomachs and exceptional hangovers. Specifically: himself, Hanamaki, Bokuto, and Sugawara (the others seem to have been blessed with guts of steel) and in Kuroo and Bokuto’s case added back pains from sleeping on the floor of Sugawara and Sawamura’s hotel room.

Still, May the Court be With You and Setsy and We Know It, because Bokuto and Kuroo _would_ come up with a name like that, win their games easily enough, the Aceholes likewise pulling through in their third set.

If the pub night before was the cause of the Serve-ivors downfall that day, the Karasuno duo don’t seem to regret it in the slightest. They lose 18-21 in their second set, but emerge afterwards from the locker rooms bumping shoulders and beaming at each other like the honeymooners Kuroo had called them before.

“We still had a great time playing.” Sawamura claims when the rest of the group offer the two of them condolences, “Right Suga?”

“Absolutely! And that’s all we came here to do, really.”

Their words make Hajime think back to the pinkie promise Oikawa made him at the beginning of their trip.

_‘We play for fun, not to win.’_

He’s been doing good so far but Hajime still can’t help his initial apprehension. These past couple of days, Oikawa has been getting along with everyone just fine, but the competition has finally begun to feel familiar- the high after a win growing more and more intoxicating, and by extension, a premature loss more and more devastating. Is it only a matter of time before this friendly little group they’ve created turns inimically sour?

 _No, he wouldn’t ruin something so good over something so petty,_ Hajime berates himself, _I should have more faith in him._

Sugawara and Sawamura go back to their hotel to take proper showers, while Bokuto and Kuroo catch the train home to Tokyo. Down to the original four once more, the Seijou boys opt to grab lunch and hit the beach for the rest of the day.

They head over to a nearby area with towels and an umbrella in tow. While Oikawa and Hanamaki settle down in the shade, Hajime goes with Matsukawa to fetch a cooler from his uncle’s rental shop intent to fill it with refreshments from the nearby convenience store.

Matsukawa Sr’s shop sits at the end of the beach, flanking a cobblestone avenue filled with various other seaside businesses. They encounter the older man sitting on a little stool at the entrance, engrossed in a game of sudoku and puffing on a cigarette. His frivolous beach shorts are Doraemon patterned this time.

“Hey, Ji-san.” Matsukawa greets him. He looks up from his puzzle, delighted to see them.

“Ah, Issei-kun! And Hajime-kun too. How were your games?”

“Pretty good.” his nephew answers, “The four of us have another on Thursday, except me and Hanamaki will be playing those guys from last year again.”

His uncle raises a familiarly thick eyebrow, “The two with the big hair?”

Hajime grins at the description. “That’s them all right.”

“Anyways, can we borrow the cooler?” asks Matsukawa, “We’re gonna go to Lawson.”

“Of course, I think it’s in the back beside the surfboards.”

“Thanks, I’ll go grab it.”

“Yes, thank you.” Hajime automatically echoes the gratitude. He is about to follow his friend through the beaded curtains inside when Matsukawa Sr. calls his name,

“Wait, Hajime-kun.” the older man reaches into his front pocket and takes out his wallet. Hajime catches a brief glimpse of a photo of two figures when he opens it, but Matsukawa Sr. pulls out two smooth ¥1000 notes before Hajime can really look.

“Here, buy yourselves some cool treats." he insists, "It’s humid today.”

“That’s nice of you sir.” Hajime offers him a polite nod when he accepts it, “Would you like us to get you anything?”

“No need to be so formal, Hajime-kun. Just call me Ji-san.” Matsukawa Sr. flashes him a crooked but kind grin. It’s uncanny how similar he looks and acts like his nephew, they both come off as reserved but once you get to know them you discover just how insightful they are. “And I’m quite alright but thank you for asking.”

“It's the least I can do, really.” Hajime maintains. “Thanks Ji-san.”

Matsukawa the younger returns from the back with a bright orange cooler, so the two of them bid his uncle farewell to head across the street towards the store.

“He really likes you guys.” Matsukawa says as Hajime begins to load the cooler with an assortment of pop cans, “Ji-san, I mean. He thinks Oikawa is funny, and he’s asked me about you a couple of times too.”

“He’s a cool guy.” Hajime replies, grabbing a Pocari for himself, a couple flavours of Ramune, and a cherry cola from the fridge. “If you don’t mind me asking, has he always lived alone? Or was he ever, you know, married or something? You’ve never mentioned any cousins.”

“There’s never been anyone, I don’t think.” Matsukawa slides the freezer shut, tossing in a hefty bag of ice and a pack of Papicos, “I can tell he gets lonely so having everyone here makes him happy.”

“Well I’m more than glad to be here too.” Hajime fishes out the gifted cash and waves it in front of his face, “He’s spotting our refreshments."

Matsukawa’s usually aloof expression softens just a bit, “See, I told you he likes you.”

“We should do something nice for him before we leave.” Hajime resolves, “Treat him to dinner, maybe.”

“Yeah he’d love that.”

They collect their change from the tray then head back over to their friends holding the heavy cooler between them, one handle each.

 

~

 

“Ooh, Iwa-chan I hope you got me a cola,” Tooru calls out from his spot sprawled out on a towel when Iwaizumi and Matsukawa arrive back from Lawson. Iwaizumi _knows_ cherry cola is his favourite and he did not disappoint, Tooru catches the can that he tosses his way with practiced ease.  

“You’ve earned some brownie points for that.” Tooru chirps, yet when he opens the pop tab he’s sprayed squarely in the face by a plume of sticky liquid.

“Or not.” Hanamaki snickers.

“Will you believe me if I tell you that was an accident?” Iwaizumi hands him a spare towel, which Tooru snatches from his grasp and uses to wipe off his face.

“Iwa-chan has been looking for any opportunity to sabotage my beauty since we got here,” he wrings out his soaked fringe onto the sand, “Probably ‘cause he’s jealous.”

Iwaizumi goes ahead and pours the rest of the can over his head for that, “You missed a spot.” he deadpans.

“YOU FIEND!” Tooru whips the can at his forehead, accuracy, to Iwaizumi’s chagrin, as precise as ever.

It also helps that Iwaizumi’s forehead is _quite_ large.

“He was asking for that one.” Matsukawa comments, settling down with his own lychee Ramune.

Hanamaki joins him, “Oikawa or Iwaizumi?”

“Both of them.”

“Cheers to that.” Hanamaki chuckles, raising his bottle up to Matsukawa’s. “So much for _perfect trust.”_

After calling Iwaizumi some more pejorative names, Tooru goes to rinse himself off in the ocean.

The beach is busy today, most likely because of the sweltering temperature- it’s pushing 40℃ outside. A true Kanto summer. Undulating heat waves distort the image of the surrounding beach, like a rippling mirage in the Sahara. Tooru supposes he'll have to reapply sunscreen after this, lest he fall mercy to the sun’s harsh rays.

_Is it weird if I keep asking Iwa-chan to help me lotion my back?_

Contemplative, he spots some young kids playing in the sand during his swim back to the group and they give him the most brilliant idea. Iwaizumi is still rubbing the welt that’s burgeoned on his forehead when Tooru returns from his swim and demands, “Iwa-chan, bury me!”

His best friend blinks, thinking he may have heard incorrectly, “Like… in the sand? Why?”

“It's a trust exercise,” Tooru explains, glaring at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, “Because I know you'll dig me out. Makki, Mattsun- you gotta help though because it's gotta be a really deep hole to fit my _entire_ height.”

“We get it, you’re tall” Iwaizumi mutters. "But okay, I don't see why not.”

"This could be interesting." the other two agree.

The four of them end up digging a hole about half of Tooru’s height, but double his width. It proves to be physically impossible to make it their captain’s entire 183.4cm, minus his head, without the walls of surrounding sand collapsing, and you can bet Tooru was smug about it.

“How is this demonstrating Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s _perfect trust_ again?" Hanamaki wonders as Tooru gingerly lowers himself inside. The damp sand below ground is cool all around him, nice and refreshing on such a hot day. A brilliant idea indeed.

“Who cares anymore,” says Matsukawa, “Help me turn the Grand King into a mermaid.”

When only Tooru’s head is left above ground level, Hanamaki and Matsukawa, the more creative half of their foursome, sculpt him fancifully large breasts and a fish tail. Iwaizumi finds them two circular seashells for a bra as a finishing touch.

“This may be some of my best work.” Matsukawa hums. "I might have to add it to my portfolio."

“I can see the scholarships already.” agrees Hanamaki, “Now where did I put my phone?”

“I'm only letting you take a picture ‘cause I make a pretty mermaid.” Tooru asserts. Iwaizumi guffaws at this, and Tooru's only regret is not being able to throw something at him again for it.

“Oi!” distant voices call. All heads turn to see Sawamura and Sugawara arrive on scene with two shiny green watermelons in tow.

“Ayyy Karasuno!” Hanamaki whistles, “Are those for us?”

“You bet!” Sugawara knocks against one of them excitedly. He and Sawamura set down their own beach stuff beside the rest. “There was a stall on our way here having a two for one deal.”

“Okay, but do you know what this means?” Hanamaki looks to Matsukawa, and the two of them nod accordingly,

“Suikawari!”

Tooru has never actually played before, but he’s seen it done on television countless times. With rules similar to a Japanese version of piñata, in Suikawari a watermelon is placed on a towel or piece of cardboard, and the participants one by one attempt to smash it open with a wooden stick. They are blindfolded and spun three times beforehand, and the first person to crack the watermelon open wins the game.

“I’m down!” Tooru’s disembodied head proclaims. This startles Sawamura, who seems to not have noticed he was there.

“Oh, hi Oikawa-san.”

“Hey~ you can drop the _san,_ y’know _._ I’ll be your setter in a few weeks."

His soon-to-be-teammate nods, “Okay, same here.”

After setting aside the watermelons, Sugawara squats down to observe Tooru a little closer.

“Wow, nice tail. Great linework on those scales.”

“What can I say, it’s a talent.” Matsukawa proclaims.

“Mattsun's the next Michelangelo.”

“Only with better eyebrows.”

“Anyways, I'm gonna go find us a stick for Suikawari,” Iwaizumi announces. He taps one of the watermelons with the tip of his sandal, “I think I saw a few down over there.”

“Good idea, I’ll help you.” Sugawara decides, "I have a feeling we’re going to need more than one."

"True that."

Tooru wriggles beneath the sand, completely stuck in place. “Ne, can someone dig me out now?” he voices loudly. His limbs are starting to ache from being folded up for so long.

Hanamaki, that angel _(brownie points for you too, Makki),_ kneels down beside him. “I say we place the watermelon _right_ on Oikawa’s head.”

“Oh my god Makki! Why is everyone out to get me today?” Tooru glowers as Sawamura (the _true_ angel, earner of every brownie point to be given) and a reluctant Matsukawa begin to help him out.

“Farewell, my sweet masterpiece…”

Once he’s free, Tooru goes to rinse himself off in the ocean for the second time that hour.

He knows his friends are messing with him, and even that sometimes he deserves it, but still, the digs can get annoying. There’s a limit to how long he can act as if they don’t take a toll on his delicate self-esteem.

Tooru is well aware that the only thing he really has going for him is his looks, and that’s why he uses them for protection. They’re his trusty suit of armour.

He could tell when he tried dating all of those girls that they only really cared for his pretty face, his silky hair, and lean frame. They gave him disconcerted glances when he brought up his favourite cryptid conspiracies, and not one of them ever asked him what type of cola he liked, or noticed when he went an entire night without sleep, anxious about a big game the next day.

All they wanted was a prince to escort them to a school dance, or a jock to kiss them underneath the bleachers. Even the hookups, _especially_ the hookups. He hated those most because they were so easy. He could walk into a bar or a club and have whoever he wanted, just because of his looks.

He couldn’t start something special with any of them, no matter how hard he tried (which, truthfully, wasn’t that hard). He’ll admit now that it was because none of them were Iwaizumi Hajime, and dear god, did he want them to be.

Tooru ducks beneath the water, shaking the sand out of his swim trunks. He thinks he’ll still have sand stuck in every crevice of his body for next few weeks. He's probably swallowed a sandcastle's worth too.

When he breaches the surface for air, Iwaizumi calls out to him,

“Hurry up, Oikawa! We’re waiting for you!”

“Coming!”

They spend the remainder of the afternoon playing Suikawari and eating the smashed open watermelons, though not without two sticks breaking, Sawamura knocking down their neighbour’s beach umbrella, and Tooru nearly taking out Matsukawa’s eye.

When Hanamaki falls asleep in the sun, Tooru and Iwaizumi spell out ‘#3’ on his chest out of watermelon seeds, making sure to take plenty of photos when they leave a distinct tan line on his pale skin.

 _I’m fine,_ Tooru thinks, a fresh welt to match Iwaizumi's on his head courtesy of the awakened and wrathful former middle blocker.

_Just fine._

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**20 July 20XX, 8:34 AM**

 

 **Kuroo Tetsurou** : heyyyy 11am in front of the entrance right??

 

 **Me:** thats the plan, think you can make it?

 

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** def we’ll just take the early train

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** gotta wake up Bo first tho (which might take a while, he’s a night owl lol)

 

 **Me:** why am i not surprised

 **Me:** but ok lmk when you arrive

 **Me:** thx again im sure oikawa will appreciate it

 

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** its nothing dude!!

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** sounds like a good time :3

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**20 July 20XX, 9:01 AM**

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:** Good morning Iwaizumi-san, what kind of cake does Oikawa like?

 **Sawamura Daichi:** Our hotel is near a bakery so we thought it would be nice to bring something for later.

 

 **Me:** hey, that guy will gobble up anything sweet

 **Me:** he especially likes cream  & strawberries

 **Me:** thx guys

 **Me:** (also, feel free to drop the san on my name too)

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:**  Haha got it!

 **Sawamura Daichi:** We’re both very excited, see you soon!

 

~

 

Oikawa is beyond ecstatic when Hajime presents him with an aquarium ticket for his birthday that morning, and even moreso when everyone from yesterday, including Bokuto and Kuroo, show up in front of the entrance to meet them there.

“I heard it was _someone’s_ birthday.” Kuroo grins, while Bokuto bounces excitedly on his heels beside him.

“Happy Birthday Oikawa!” It’s clear to Hajime that Bokuto is having difficulty restraining himself from trapping Oikawa in another lung crushing hug.

“We brought this for after.” Sawamura holds up a large white pastry box, “It’s strawberry shortcake.”

“Aw guys!” Oikawa swoons, absolutely delighted. Regardless of occasion, sweets tend to have that effect on him. “You really shouldn’t have, thank you sooooo much!”

Despite everything, even Hajime himself couldn’t help his slight surprise when all four of their new acquaintances showed such enthusiasm when he invited them, let alone go out of their way to such an extent for someone they still barely knew. So he knows Oikawa is genuine in his gratitude.

Sawamura turns to Hanamaki with the cake box, “Do you think we could leave it in your car?”

The redhead nods, fishing for his keys, “Sure, we can keep it in the trunk so it doesn’t melt.”

“I’ve got plastic plates and utensils in my bag too.”

“Cool, I’m parked just across the street.”

“Wow, I wonder how they guessed my favourite~” Oikawa leans in closer to Hajime wearing a knowing look upon his face, “Did _you_ set this up Iwa-chan?”

Hajime shrugs, not wanting to make a big deal out of it because it wasn’t much anyways, just a couple of text messages and a late night drive to the aquarium under the pretence of going with Hanamaki to pick up some groceries.

“I told them that we were planning on taking you here today, I didn’t know if they’d actually show.”

“Well thank you, this is wonderful.”

A fluttery, skittish warmth envelops him at Oikawa’s full-fledged smile, no trace of cheeky coquetry, only sincerity. It’s not something new, per se, rather, its a feeling Hajime’s just noticed now that he wants to chase further, traverse deeper, and see what he discovers along the way.

Oikawa is glowing especially bright at eighteen years old.

“‘Was nothing, really.” is all Hajime says.

Oikawa takes a step even closer, and Hajime braces himself for some kind of hug or slap on the back but his best friend just nods at him a little tersely then walks over to talk to Bokuto, leaving Hajime standing there feeling a little adjourned.

_Is it because Oikawa is usually a pretty physical person?_

The rest of their party returns right then, so he stretches his arms over his head and follows them all inside, genuinely excited to see some marine life.

 

~

 

Silhouetted against the tank’s lowlight, curious almond eyes wander to Sawamura and Sugawara, over the symmetry of their shoulders and down the slopes of their arms. They're holding hands, he notices, palms clasped, fingers entwined, and finally he understands why it always seems like they’re hiding something.

_But they aren’t really hiding it, are they?_

Hajime watches Sugawara pull their joined hands up to his lips to press a quick kiss against Sawamura’s knuckles. They smile at each other, their gaze deep-seated and intimate.

It’s why they say the other’s name with a tenderness that bewildered him, why they’ve travelled across the country alone together for half a month, and even why Sugawara had lost it laughing when Kuroo called them honeymooners.

 _He called you and Oikawa honeymooners too,_ a little voice in Hajime’s head reminds him. He has no idea where it came from but he decides to entertain it. He wonders if Kuroo knew about Sawamura and Sugawara’s relationship when he made the comment, or more importantly, if _Oikawa_ knew about it and didn’t say anything.

_Would it make a difference either way?_

Yet Hajime finds he wouldn't particularly mind people assuming he and Oikawa are in a relationship, he has to admit they’re a lot closer than most best friends are anyways. But still, for all he knows, there’s a possibility Oikawa might care about that sort of thing… especially if such a misunderstanding affected his social reputation or professional integrity.

Maybe it’s why he didn’t hug Hajime in front of everyone like he normally does- they're adults now, and around Oikawa's future university teammates and competitors to boot.

“Boys! There are children here!” Bokuto yells flagrantly, which causes Sawamura and Sugawara to practically leap a few meters apart from each other.

“Bokuto!” Sawamura flushes deep scarlet. He glances around fretfully but besides their little group the only other occupants are absorbed in an interactive display about the many breeds of fish in Sagami Bay, oblivious to their antics.

Bokuto and Kuroo start snickering, which answers Hajime’s first question from before.

“How long have you guys been together?” Hajime asks Sugawara. He doesn’t notice a certain pair of cocoa-powdered eyes immediately dart towards him from across the room, surreptitious yet intent.

“Ah, just over half a year.” the sanguine colour of Sugawara’s blush matches the starfish clinging to the tank behind him. “It’ll be seven months on Saturday.”

“Oh, so you two are actually...?” Hanamaki inquires, and Hajime can't help but feel relieved that he wasn’t the only one unaware of their relationship.

“That a problem?” Kuroo throws an arm over Sawamura’s shoulder, his expression placid as usual but this time laced with something threateningly predatory, just _daring_ Hanamaki to answer incorrectly.

Unphased, Hanamaki cocks a thin eyebrow at him, “Why would it be?”

Hajime lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding.

“Good answer.”

“Bro! Look, it's you!” Bokuto gestures excitedly at a tank filled with whiskery catfish.

“Then that ones you.” Kuroo lets go of Sawamura to point to a sign that says, ‘ _Psychrolutes Marcidus, commonly known as a Blobfish’._

“Fuck you Kuroo! I’m not that ugly!

“Bro, you’re the ocean of my eye!” Kuroo attests, “The pearl in my oyster!"

Bokuto clutches dramatically at his heart, “That was so deep.”

_“Deep.”_

"Oh my god."

Absentmindedly, Hajime spots Oikawa up ahead with Matsukawa, probably too absorbed in the sea turtles to have heard any of the conversation that just happened. He walks over to join them, the rest of the group’s bantering fading into the background noise.

“Hey.” Hajime pops up beside him. Oikawa seems to be staring rather intently at a lacy piece of coral. “Guess which room is next?”

Familiar eyes slide sideways, the filtered light from the aquarium reflecting within their depths. “Which one?”

“The jellyfish room.”

He visibly perks up with excitement at the news.

“Wanna go on ahead?” Hajime asks.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?”

The two of them look back at the rest of the group; everyone else still seems to be going off about something frivolous, as usual, causing mischief in their own little bubble:

“Guys, holy shit it says here that there are only 420 Blobfish left in the world!”

“You’re lying bro no way-”

“That’s an oddly specific number.”

“Wow it actually does say that!”

“How the fuck?”

"I need a photo of this."

“Nah, they won’t even notice.” determines Hajime, “Plus it's your birthday, you can do whatever the hell you want today.”

“Good point,” Oikawa acquiesces, “You coming too, Mattsun?”

They look to their right and find Matsukawa’s previous spot empty. Glancing back at the rest of their friends, they discover him now sketching a couple of lobsters inside the little black sketchbook he brought.

“He's busy so let's just go.” Hajime grabs Oikawa by the wrist and pulls him onwards.

“Woah, Iwa-chan.”

They push past a set of doors into the next room. Upon entering, they find themselves in front of a tank filled with dozens of patterned clownfish.

“Sorry, I just needed a breather.” Hajime releases his grip on Oikawa. He supposes it _was_ unnecessarily tight. “I like hanging out with everyone but they can get a bit exhausting after a while.”

“Oh, I get what you mean.” Oikawa concurs, “It’s nice when it’s just us sometimes too.”

 _It’s always nice when it’s just us,_ Hajime doesn’t say, but finds himself thinking anyways. He wonders when exactly Oikawa made him so mushy.

“Did you know that Sawamura and Sugawara are a couple?” he can’t help but ask.

But for all that Hajime softens, his best friend does the opposite. Oikawa crosses his arms, expression hard and flat. There’s suddenly another wall between them, like an opaque volleyball net dividing the court in half. “Didn't you?”

Hajime shakes his head, “I didn't really notice until now.”

Oikawa looks away from him to a bright blue tang swimming in circles. “Well, you’ve always been kind of oblivious, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime isn’t sure he agrees with that. “Have I?”

Oikawa doesn’t elaborate, very intentionally refusing to meet Hajime’s gaze. It’s far more untouchable than the false bravado he exerts on others- Oikawa begins to close up like a clam, and Hajime knows he must wedge himself inside before his shell completely shuts.

He hazards a step closer, “Oikawa-”

“Does it bother you?” Oikawa interrupts with a careful voice.

Hajime falters, for there is a tenseness in the air- like its charged ubiquitously. The fish seem to scatter, and the filtered sounds from the tanks are suddenly really loud, the water behind the thick aquarium glass building pressure against it, pushing and pulsing with mounting force. Even a child starts wailing somewhere nearby.

This question is loaded, and Hajime can feel it looming. If he answers incorrectly torrents will come crashing down, caging him in, drowning him.

Homosexuality is not a subject they've ever discussed. They’ve never had the need to. It isn’t something that Hajime thinks about any more than what colour socks he's wearing or who Japan’s fourth emperor was.

Unlike Oikawa, who’s had more girlfriends than he can bother to count (six), Hajime never dated in high school. He never even wanted to, to be honest. Always content devoting himself to volleyball and schoolwork, the time he spent outside of it with his best friend and other teammates satisfying any contingent desires he ever had for a social life, no girlfriend or boyfriend or anything of the sort needed.

“It doesn’t bother me.” Hajime admits easily, because it's true. “What about you?”

Oikawa appears taken aback for a moment, blinking in succession, as if he cannot believe he’s been asked such a question, “Of course not! Love is love, gender is just a social construct anyways!"

Visibly, the fish seem to relax, the impending pressure behind the glass pacifying with them. Oikawa’s shoulders too have loosened, his arms detangled, and Hajime no longer feels as if he’ll be buried alive.

“Sawamura and Sugawara make a nice couple.” he says, “I thought it was unusual before that they called each other by their first names but now it makes sense.”

“Oh?” Oikawa raises his eyebrows coyly, mood escalating from 1 to 100 just like that. “Are first names that special to you, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime moves on to a tank containing a handful of frilly red and white lionfish. “Uh... not particularly.”

They eventually arrive at the end of the long room to the exhibit which Oikawa had been anticipating the most- the jellyfish.

“Look! They have one!” he squeals, running up to the tank like he’s eight and not eighteen, “It’s an immortal jellyfish!”

There's a giant spherical tank in the centre of the room, like a massive crystal ball. Within it several blue and red jellyfish float about like paper bags in the wind, drifting and swaying in their confined circular space.

“Well damn.” Hajime whispers in disbelief. “They do exist.”

There's a sign beside the tank that reads:

**_The Turritopsis Dohrnii, also known as the Immortal Jellyfish, is a hydrozoan jellyfish found in the waters surrounding Japan and the Mediterranean sea. It’s medusa is able to de-age its own cells from full sexual maturity back to immaturity, transforming the Turritopsis Dohrnii into its initial polyp state through a process called transdifferentiation. Though the indefinite transdifferentiation process renders it biologically immortal, the Turritopsis Dohrnii is still vulnerable to death through predators and disease._ **

Oikawa has his face smushed unceremoniously against the sphere. He is utterly enthralled by the strange creatures floating up and down in their round tank but Hajime is more infatuated by the faint dusting of freckles on his round cheeks, and the innocent tug of his smile under the glow of the filtered lights. Jellyfish are interesting, but they pale in comparison to the person beside him.

_‘Are first names that special to you, Iwa-chan?’_

Maybe it’s because it’s Oikawa’s birthday, or that they haven't really been alone together in a week. Or perhaps it’s the new people they’ve been around, the exciting things that they’ve done having changed his perspective.

Maybe it’s because they’ve finally breached a topic that they’ve both hid from over a decade and a half of friendship, one that Hajime himself hasn’t ever even thought about, but now that he has he realizes just how much it will affect his life as an adult, where high school trivialities are no longer there as a preoccupation from the underlying truth about _himself._

Maybe it’s why he’s been feeling confusing things about his blatantly straight best friend, why the exasperated words _‘Of course not!’_ made Hajime feel anchored, but not without the lingering sense that Oikawa might still swim away, destined for grander, further isles. For smoother, less choppy waters.

Maybe it's just the copious amounts of salt and sand he’s ingested since they got here.

Maybe it’s another reason entirely.

Maybe there’s no reason at all.

That little voice in his brain whispers,

_Tooru._

 

~

 

They spend a solid hour in the aquarium gift shop, with many photos featuring funky stuffed sea creatures to prove it. Iwaizumi even ends up buying Tooru a huge plush jellyfish, a _mastigias papua,_ also known as a spotted lagoon, which he names Clara-chan as a memento.

They walk to the island shrine after their undersea adventures since Tooru had mentioned wanting to visit earlier. Praying always helps him clear his head, and growing up further north has instilled in him birthday traditions he’s not about to be skipping this late in the game, even halfway across the country.

The shrine is just over the bridge, nestled atop the mountain at the island’s centre. Iwaizumi hangs near the back with Hanamaki the entire way there, more reserved than usual, so Tooru doesn't pester him. He chats with Bokuto and Kuroo instead, giving him some space.

The topic of university crops up ever inevitably.

"We're both starting at Keio, except Bo got a full scholarship." Kuroo tells Tooru, "The lucky bastard. I've been working two jobs to pay my tuition."

"Bro you know I'd follow you even if I didn't!" Bokuto chips in. "Plus you were a volunteer at the shelter first, they only started paying you recently."

"True, I can’t resist the cute kittens~”

“Lucky, all I get are _headaches_ volunteering at my cousin’s elementary league.” complains Tooru. Finding a legitimate part-time job is going to be a priority once he moves out. "What are you guys studying at Keio?”

“Kuroo’s in Marine Biology and I’m in Kin." says Bokuto, "We might actually have some classes with Iwaizumi believe it or not! Everyone's gotta take Gen Ed courses in first year.”

“A shame Iwaizumi won’t be on the volleyball team with us though.” Kuroo adds regretfully. “It’d be interesting to see the dynamic duo as rivals.”

“Yeah…” Tooru trails off, and Bokuto notices they've hit a sore spot, so he snakes an arm around Tooru’s shoulder.

“Teammate or not, we’ll take good care of him!” he coos.

Kuroo claims Tooru’s other shoulder, effectively turning him into a Tokyo captain sandwich. “You’re stuck with us now that you’re moving to the Big Mikan, so just accept it.”

A breathy exhale escapes him, “Just make sure Iwa-chan doesn’t get lost without me." he says, but the words don't come out as steady as he'd intended.

"Aww!" Bokuto ruffles his hair (Tooru lets him because it's been a fluffy mess this past week anyways). "We promise."

Kuroo smirks cheekily, “Besides, once we decide we like you you’re done for~”

It feels to Tooru like a different sort of birthday gift. The better kind, maybe. Because Bokuto and Kuroo _like_ him, without the mask, despite the walls, and this time he’s not surprised at how ready he is to admit the same.

 

~

 

A crimson _torii_ gate marks the entrance to Enoshima shrine, flanked by two weathered _komainu_ guardian statues. The crisp smell of the surrounding forest reminds Tooru a little of the park beside his and Iwaizumi’s house where they used to hunt for stag beetles as kids. Especially the jaunty maple trees, which stretch high above the well worn stone steps and cast speckled shade on their little group as they make the trek up to the altar. There are magnolias too, but their blossoms have come and gone, leaving them bare to their branches, toughing out the summer heat.

_It’s probably gorgeous here in the springtime._

They purify their hands and mouths in the sacred water well before entering the shrine, tossing some coins into the offertory box and bowing before it. When he finally claps his hands together in prayer, Tooru thanks the local goddess  _Benzaiten_ for all of the positive things in his life at the moment: his loving family, his amazing scholarship, good health, and most significantly, his extraordinary friends, old and new, who have taken this journey with him.

He chimes the large bell when he’s finished, bowing again deeply. The tumultuous clouds that had gathered in his head subside for now, leaving him more at peace than he's been all week.

The others offer _Benzaiten_ their prayers too, some picking up charms and fortunes, before they grab something to eat at one of the restaurants further inland.

They end up having ramen despite the heat, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa treat Tooru to a steaming bowl of shoyu-pork, as well as all of the side dishes he can fit in his stomach. The gesture makes him think of all the occasions where he's treated them and the rest of Seijou VBC to the same; their smiling faces as they swallowed bowl after bowl, giggling about trivial things and getting along like a giant family was certainly rewarding to see as captain (albeit very rough on his wallet). Even their tearful final visit after their big loss at regionals is a cherished memory, where Kindaichi had over salted his miso broth with his waterfalling tears, and the rest of the team had followed in sequence soon after.

Speaking of which, Tooru's pleasantly surprised that every single one of his old teammates have sent him a birthday message today. Even cranky little Kyoutani texted Iwaizumi a blunt _'tell him HBD'_ which was nonetheless appreciated, although he is forever offended that his underclassman refused to input his own captain's number into his phone.

Tooru also got an early call from his mom, a video call from his sister with special guest Takeru, and even a brief ring from his dad who is in Singapore for a business trip.  

He looks around at their boisterous table of teenagers, at the messages that have been spamming his phone since midnight, and resolves he's been selfish to feel so defeated lately. Life is bigger than Miyagi, even Japan- what makes it worthwhile are the people who love him for exactly who he is.

 

~

 

Iwaizumi Hajime loves to sleep. It’s his time to recharge, unwind, let the day’s events pass like impressions behind his eyelids and settle themselves everywhere else. He has been told he sleeps like a cat, curled up and placid, impervious to the happenings of the outside world. Hajime can fall asleep on command, will so do effortlessly aboard any train or car, but preferably under the sun on a scorching summer day.

His best friend, on the other hand, has never had it so easy. Oikawa always tosses and turns at night, scrolls mindlessly on his phone, frequently in need of relieving his tiny bladder. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep a wink, but remains as perky as ever when morning comes around. Hajime has to wonder what kind of sorcery he’s performed to live like this, because although Hajime would also consider himself somewhat of a night owl, he still needs at least 7 hours of rest to keep the dark circles of exhaustion from bleeding through his eye sockets.

Tonight they’ve switched roles, though. Oikawa has fallen asleep soundly, face lax, breathing in steady rhythm, while Hajime’s barely got in an hour. His feet throb from walking around all day, and he’s restless and fidgety, plagued by the imagined sensation of ants crawling under the sheets and over his skin. His thoughts form a foggy cloud, indistinguishable but tumultuous, migraine-inducing, while each minute ticks by slow as treacle. It’s _torture._

When his phone screen eventually displays 6:10am Hajime decides _screw it,_ and hops out of bed. He’s never been one to stew in his misery.

So he pulls on his favourite Aoba Josai hoodie, the one with the big pocket in the front, then laces his sneakers and snaps his headphones around his ears. He shuffles the workout playlist Oikawa made him for his birthday back in June before sneaking out of the house, hoping that the upbeat pop music might wake him completely.

He picks a direction on instinct, not really thinking about particulars. He’s jogging over the red and yellow brickwork bridge to Enoshima island when someone taps on his shoulder.

“Iwaizumi!” Sawamura Daichi jogs up from behind him. It had slipped Hajime’s mind that he’s also just passed the street where Sawamura’s and Sugawara’s hotel is.

“Long time no see.” Hajime greets him, tugging the headphones down around his neck. Sawamura is clad in similar workout gear, glowing in the dawn- the posterboy of an early riser. “Going for a run?”

“Every morning.” Sawamura gleams, easily falling into step with Hajime, “Gotta keep in shape to make first-string. I’ve never seen you around this early, though. Only Matsukawa with his sketchbook few times.”

It’s not that Hajime’s gotten lazy since retiring- he still runs regularly at home. It’s just that their days have been longer since they got here, the parched sun draining everything out of him like a fruit being juiced, so he’s been sleeping in, indulging in things he usually wouldn’t, opting to wake up whenever his friends do.

“Vacation.” he says simply, shrugging. “I should stop cheating though. Thought running might help clear my head this morning.”

Sawamura seems to understand. “That’s alright, at least you’ve kept somewhat of a routine. Suga needs minimum two cups of coffee to function before noon, and he’s never worked out a day in his life. Not sure how he was ever an athlete, to be honest.”

“My setter is the same.” Hajime says, but for some reason _setter_ feels like the wrong word for that sentence. “Not sure how he’s _still_ an athlete. I’m convinced it’s sorcery or something. Demonic sacrifice for endless dark energy.”

Sawamura chuckles, and the two of them make it to the end of the bridge which opens up to the island. Hajime marvels at how peaceful the beach is at dawn, like an entirely different world, with no boats filling the harbour or colourful umbrellas scattered along the shoreline.

It’s pretty windy, the ocean choppy, and jogging along the sand against the force of nature poses something of a challenge but Hajime has always had a penchant for those. It’s a quality he and his best friend share.

He keeps up with Sawamura, who is undeniably more fit than he is (Hajime can’t stop staring at his _thighs)._ They run around the island’s perimeter, conversation coming easily, with silences equally comfortable. It surprises Hajime that he can feel this way with someone he’s really only known for a week.

They’ve stopped to rest on the edge of a fountain in a parkette facing the mainland when Sawamura confides in him, “I’m anxious about university, actually.”

“Don’t be, you’ve got a great chance of making it to first-string.” Hajime assures him.

“It’s not that.” Sawamura hunches his shoulders, “It’s just, I’ve never played without Suga there before. Whether he was on the court or not, he was always our morale booster. More than anything, he kept Karasuno together."

“Oh,” Hajime crosses his arms and nods, “I get that.”

“It’s silly, but he made me feel like a bird that could never fall out of the sky.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow, remembering Karasuno’s mascot. _Like a crow?_

“I can tell Oikawa kind of feels the same about my retirement." he admits, "It was… tense between us at first. It’s still a sore spot for him, I think, but we’ve gotten over shit before so I’m not too worried.”

The memory of Oikawa being lifted out of their middle school gym in a stretcher, kneecap raw and shattered, comes to mind.

”How long have you guys known each other anyways? You seem to do everything together.”

“Since I moved next door during preschool, technically, but it feels like forever.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” praises Sawamura.

Hajime tightens his arms against his chest even though he’s not particularly cold, “Why’s that?”

“You must have a really strong connection to stay friends for so long. And you’re still rooming together in uni too. It’s admirable how close you are.”

Hajime contemplates that, not understanding how it’s amazing or admirable at all. Being with Oikawa feels as natural to him as breathing. It always has, for their connection is an instinctive one that he’s never had to put much thought into cultivating. They’ve just known each other for so many years- longer than they _haven’t_ known each other. But perhaps that’s what’s changing now. Maybe things won’t be so naturally easy between the two of them anymore, and they’ll have to work at it once again.

Hajime hesitates, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead.” Sawamura replies. He hasn’t known him as long as he’s known Oikawa, but Hajime finds he trusts Sawamura in a similar way, so he goes with his gut and swallows down that hesitation like a dry pill,

“When did you realize you were gay?”

He doesn’t expect Sawamura to answer right away, but he does. “Recently, actually. I hadn’t even considered it until Suga asked to kiss me one night after practice. I said yes and…” Sawamura looks to the sky, at the palm trees swaying overhead, “It felt right, like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place perfectly. Except I hadn’t known I’d been incomplete, or that a piece had been missing at all.”

“So it’s not something you knew about yourself before. Not something…” Hajime wracks his brain to find the right word, “Inherent.”

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that. It’s different for everyone.” Sawamura maintains, “Suga knew since he was a little boy. Maybe because he lived in Melbourne for a bit, he was exposed to more kinds of people than we were in Miyagi and it made him realize sooner. As for me, I knew that I loved him but I didn’t understand why it was different from my other friends. It hadn’t occurred to me that gay was a thing I could be, not until he kissed me and I felt complete.”

Hajime wonders if the _different_ he feels for his own best friend is the exact same kind.

 _What would I do if Oikawa asked to kiss me?_ The thought doesn’t revolt him like he’d expected. While he doesn’t yet have an answer, the question sits patiently in his head on standby.

“He’s been making me read a lot about LGBT stuff, actually.” Sawamura mentions, “Pamphlets and websites explaining things I had no idea existed. It’s really interesting! Did you know there’s such a thing as asexuality? Pansexuality? Not to mention gender identity- it’s a whole spectrum, not one or the other.”

“I didn’t know that.” Hajime admits. He always thought it was just gay or bi, girl or boy, dismissing them as something one came out of the womb just _knowing_ about themself. He had assumed he was heterosexual by default, had assumed everyone was, when that might not necessarily be the case. “It’s like all of those things are just more puzzle pieces to try on for size.”

“Exactly!” Sawamura agrees. “Do you want me to send you some of those websites?”

“Okay, that’d be great.”

Sawamura beams at him, and Hajime is suddenly really glad that he’s on Oikawa’s team at Meiji. They’ll both be seeing a lot of him from now on.

He decides he’ll invite Sawamura to go jogging tomorrow, too.

_Maybe in Tokyo we can start a routine._

They make their way across the bridge again, and before he steps off it, Hajime glances back at Enoshima in the distance, stopping momentarily. The wind at his back feels like a push towards it, an invisible hand pulling him back.

He’s not sure what shape it might take, or how big it might be, but there’s one of his puzzle pieces somewhere on that island. Hajime knows it. It’s just a matter of looking.

 

~

 

Their beach volleyball game the next morning definitely isn’t their most impressive endeavour. They’d been set against the twins that Sawamura and Sugawara had lost to, the Miya Mis-Hits, and Tooru recognized them as former players from Inarizaki in Hyogo the moment they set foot on the court.

There’s pressure now, not just because the winners of this round go to the finals but because this time his opponents have experience. Their high school team made it to nationals unlike Seijou, and it’s evident in the ruthless yet synchronized way that the two brothers coordinate. They have a connection more intense than he and Iwaizumi do, a bond only blood-related twins could share, and the fact that they spend nearly the entire game communicating in silence puts Tooru _right off._

He makes stupid little mistakes, costing them precious points, so many that their measly win is almost entirely due to the other team’s continuous fouls in the third and final set.

“You need to chill out.” Iwaizumi tells him sternly afterwards. His sharp eyebrows furrow in a familiar arch- Tooru’s tempted to press his thumb between them. “Remember what we promised?”

“I _know,_ Iwa-chan. Old habits just die hard sometimes.”

“When it comes to you, it's all the time.”

Tooru can’t really argue there so he doesn’t push the topic further.

They’re separated from the Karasuno and Tokyo pairs again that day. The former have gone on a date just them two _,_ while the latter have stayed home to work and rest up for their own game against Hanamaki and Matsukawa tomorrow. Whoever wins will play Iwaizumi and him in the finals, which is intimidating as hell, because while Tooru unquestionably wants to win, he also doesn’t want his friends to lose. It’s really quite the dilemma.

Back down to the original four once again, the Seijou boys decide to swipe some of Matsukawa’s uncle’s spare floaties and go for a swim in the ocean.

The others make a game out of trying to flip each other off of their miscellaneous floaties but Tooru is just not in the mood to join in on their shenanigans. He sinks deep into his inflatable doughnut, pink with rainbow sprinkles, and lets the sun beat down on his back, feet dangling out of the hole from the bottom so they skim the cool seabed beneath.

He knows it's bad news when he gets in his own head like this but Tooru can’t help it, he _really_ can’t.

Because there's a new burden on his and Iwaizumi’s relationship. Tooru feels constantly ill at ease about crossing some sort of definite boundary between friends and something more, subduing what comes naturally with Iwaizumi, censoring every single thing he feels. He passes what he can't off as false bravado or platonic predilection to avoid exposing himself, and it's frustrating, taxing emotionally and mentally, and he’s sure Iwaizumi will see right through it soon enough too.

It’s why he’s avoided thinking about his feelings for Iwaizumi because this is what he _feared_ would happen.

Tooru sinks deeper into his doughnut, forces himself to plan for their next game instead- a default procrastination technique. He pinpoints what exactly he did wrong during this morning’s, why and how it happened, and what he can do next time to fix it. He maps out each of his friends weaknesses and strengths since they don’t know if it’ll be Setsy and We Know It or the Aceholes squaring off against May the Court Be With You for the finals:

_Mattsun:_

  * _Power level 4/5_


  * _Jumping 2/5_


  * _Speed 3/5_


  * _Stamina 4/5_


  * _Technique 3/5_



_Makki:_  

  * _Power level 4/5_


  * _Jumping 3/5_


  * _Speed 2/5_


  * _Stamina 3/5_


  * _Technique 3/5_



_Bokuto:_

  * _Power level 5/5_


  * _Jumping 4/5_


  * _Speed 4/5_


  * _Stamina 5/5_


  * _Technique 3/5_



_Kuroo:_

  * _Power Level 3/5_


  * _Jumping 2/5_


  * _Speed 4/5_


  * _Stamina 3/5_


  * _Technique 4/5_



While he isn’t too worried about Hanamaki and Matsukawa since he and Iwaizumi have beaten them twice outside of the tournament already, Bokuto and Kuroo pose more of a challenge. Their individual dynamics balance each other out. They’re a very solid duo except for the fact that Bokuto is prone to mood swings, which may be the only chance an opponent would have to stop his killer spikes.

_Iwa-chan is faster than all of us though, and together we can definitely match Bokuto’s power._

Tooru is so absorbed in his strategizing that he doesn’t notice the blobby, opaque creature floating loftily beside him, its tentacles swaying with the ocean currents, drifting in his direction.

_And if I can round up a few service aces we might just be able to avoid a fifth set._

Closer, and closer, when the jellyfish makes contact with bared skin it stings him.

All Tooru sees is white.

“FUCK!” he howls, scrambling wildly to get out of the floatie, “FUCKING! FUCK! OH MY GOD-!”

“Woah, what happened?” his friends swim over immediately, their captain still clamouring around in the water, trying to escape the doughnut.

“MY KNEE, MY FUCKING _KNEE!”_

“Is that a jellyfish?”

“Oh no, did he...?”

“We need to get him to shore, now!” Matsukawa barks, and everyone obeys immediately, because if the usually laid back Matsukawa Issei is raising his voice, it means you shut up and do what he says.

On any other occasion, Tooru would be absolutely thrilled if Iwaizumi picked him up and held him in his (impressive) arms like he was lighter than a feather, but the pain that’s searing through his leg is like a thousand red-hot needles, so whatever potential moment this could have been is interrupted by the endless string of expletives cascading through his mouth.

He vaguely registers that it would disappoint Iwaizumi if he knew that the cause of his distress is not so much that it hurts, but moreso that the first thought he had upon getting stung was,

_Is this going to sabotage our game?_

 

~

 

Oikawa isn’t terribly heavy, even while dripping with seawater. He's lean and bony, and overall easy to carry despite his absurd height. He’s shoved his face into Hajime’s chest, clinging to him like a large wet koala, and Hajime can feel him shivering, teeth chattering, and the vibrations make his heart speed up with worry.

“Ji-san! Oikawa’s been stung by a jellyfish!” Matsukawa announces as they enter his uncle’s beach rental shop. Hajime gently settles Oikawa down on a small bench, careful not to touch the abcessing sting on his leg.

“Oh dear, that’s not good.” The older man fetches a first aid kit from the cupboard, while Hajime snatches a nearby towel to throw over Oikawa’s knotted shoulders.

“How does it feel Tooru-kun?”

Oikawa grits his teeth, “It burns like a bitch.”

“We took off the stingers in the ocean but it’s still swelling up, should we pour cold water on it?” Hajime's sure his shoddy composure betrays how severely worried he actually is.

Matsukawa Sr. shakes his head, “Smart thinking, but no. Water will make it worse.”

“I’ve got it, Ji-san.” His nephew reappears with what appears to be a clear bottle of...

“Vinegar?” squeaks Oikawa, “Won't that burn even more?!”

Matsukawa shoots him a sympathetic look. “That’s how you know it works.”

 _“Great,_ what did I do in my past life to deserve this?”

“We’re also out of painkillers.”

"Is it the price I pay for being so handsome?"

“I’ll run to the pharmacy really quickly.” decides Matsukawa.

“I’ll come too." Hanamaki says, "Plus we should grab our stuff outside.” He turns to Oikawa and affectionately ruffles his hair, “Try not to cry, captain.”

“I’m sure Iwaizumi will hold your hand if you ask nicely.” Matsukawa adds, to which Oikawa rolls his eyes and shoves them away.

“Iwa-chan’s not my mom thanks!”

“Seriously, if he cries get pictures.” the redhead whispers to Hajime on his way out. “I need them for blackmail.”

“Fuck off Makki!”

There’s a soft tinkling when their other two friends exit through the beaded curtains, and it leaves Hajime and Oikawa alone in the narrow back room with Matsukawa Sr.

“I can tell you’re all very good friends.” the older man observes with obvious amusement. He sets the first aid kit and vinegar bottle beside them.

“You best not be touching your phone, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime ignores him. “Can I help with anything?”

“Yes, if you could please keep him steady.” Matsukawa Sr. props Oikawa’s purpling leg up on a wooden stool, “Make sure he doesn’t scratch after I pour the vinegar over the sting. Holding his hand is a good idea, actually.”

Oikawa watches him unscrew the glass bottle with blatant, unregulated fear. His fist is clenched, shaking wildly like a leaf. Hajime hasn’t seen Oikawa on edge like this since his first knee injury. _The_ knee injury.

Hajime sits himself on the bench close enough that their thighs graze. “Stop freaking out.” he demands, heeding Matsukawa’s advice and snatching up Oikawa’s hand. “And don't you dare call me mom.”

“Bossy.” Oikawa is reluctant at first, much like how he was at the aquarium yesterday morning. It’s unusual, how actively he's been avoiding touching Hajime, but there isn't time to ponder over it because when Matsukawa Sr. approaches his knee with the open bottle, Oikawa gulps and laces their fingers together, giving in anyways.

Hajime stares at their twined hands and for some reason thinks of bringing Oikawa’s knuckles up to his lips like Sawamura did to Sugawara at the aquarium. He doesn’t, though, because Sawamura and Sugawara are a _couple,_ and that would be...

_Oh._

“Ready?” Matsukawa Sr. asks.

“Do it.”

Oikawa yelps when the liquid touches his inflamed skin, he squeezes Hajime hard enough to cut off circulation.

“That's it, the worst part is over.” Matsukawa offers Oikawa an owlish smile, “You can relax, Tooru-kun.”

“T-Thanks, Ji-san.” he gets out, grasp still tight as a vice.

“You're welcome.” A bell chimes then, indicating that there are customers waiting at the front, so he turns to Hajime and asks, “Do you think you can handle the rest?”

Hajime nods readily, "I've got this."

Matsukawa wipes his hands on his Keropi patterned shorts, “Excellent, I'll be right outside if you boys need anything.”

"Thanks Ji-san."

"Yes, thank you." echoes Oikawa.

After the older man leaves, Hajime moves around to kneel in front of his injured friend’s knee. He sifts through the first aid kit to retrieve some scissors, clips, gauze, and bandages. Oikawa doesn't protest when he begins to pat dry the now-disinfected wound, he is uncannily silent as Hajime wraps the gauze carefully around the sting.

In contrast to the strength he can put into a spike, Hajime’s fingers are incredibly gentle. The years he’s spent taking care of not just Oikawa but even other teammates who found themselves injured as often as teenage boys on a high school sports team might expect to have certainly brought out a softness in him that one wouldn’t assume from his stony outward demeanour.

He is nearly finished with the bandaging when Oikawa, the absolute madman, begins to laugh.

“What the actual hell is funny right now?” Hajime asks, exasperated.

“It's the irony.” The voice Hajime knows well creaks with dolour, so different from the captious whine he uses when trifling things don’t go his way. “It’s happened again.”

When he looks up Hajime sees that the beginnings of tears have welled up in Oikawa’s eyes, and he drops the scissors he's holding.

“What are you talking about?”

“I injured my knee right before an important game.” Oikawa sniffles, then rubs furiously at his face, “The _exact same_ fucking knee.”

“Hey, calm down,” Hajime puts a final clip on Oikawa’s bandaging, securing it tightly, “This is nowhere near similar to what happened before. It was an accident, it couldn’t be helped-”

He regrets his choice of wording the moment that he opens his mouth.

“Are you saying that last time wasn’t an accident? That it's my own fault I messed up my knee?” Oikawa tries to pull his leg away but Hajime holds it down by the ankle, not budging, “Well it’s true, and I know you think so too, Iwaizumi.”

Hajime’s eye twitches, thoroughly irritated. "Is this what's been bothering you?"

_Even now? Still?_

But Oikawa is _like this-_ volatile underneath it all. Because throughout his life, he's had an unreasonable amount of expectations placed on him, piled them onto himself much too frequently as well. Far more than he could ever possibly meet, and still he tries anyways. It’s why he never feels good enough, especially with geniuses like Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kageyama Tobio playing on the same court. Oikawa’s always striving to be impossibly better, he’d push himself past his most critical limits if Hajime wasn’t there to ground him and remind him that he’s good enough just the way he is: busted knee, impetuous ambition, feigned arrogance and all.

He’s so much more than what he can’t do.

Oikawa’s injury, this lack of communication between them- it’s evidence that they're both failing to meet in the middle.

_We swore to relax on this vacation… I won’t let this happen again._

Oikawa’s lip wobbles precariously- he’s fighting the urge to cry. Hajime feels a sharp pang of protectiveness. When they were kids he’d just give hell to whoever made his best friend sad but it's always different when the source is Oikawa’s own weaknesses.

“Listen up, because I will not say this again." Hajime clears his throat, “The past has passed, it’s _done._ We’re not in middle school anymore. Fuck, Oikawa, we’re not even in high school anymore.” He takes a deep breath, collects his thoughts, because where else to start with communication but here and now? “Who cares if it was your fault or not? You can’t change that it happened, you can only accept it and move on. Make the most of what you have now.” Hajime rests a comforting hand on the knee he just wrapped. “Its not the same. It’ll heal and you’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it.”

No matter how many years he has to spend in medical school, exams to take, papers to write, textbooks to read...

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasps out, “Iwa-chan, it hurts!” he launches himself at his best friend, knocking over the stool. Hajime returns the embrace with equal fervour, supporting his weight and making sure he doesn't touch his injury.

“The jellyfish! They betrayed me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa babbles into his neck, not holding back at all this time, “I bet the aliens would too, if I ever met them. They'd cripple me, kill me even! And I'd let them! Just like the jellyfish-”

“You're ridiculous.” Hajime holds him close, “The most ridiculous person I’ve ever known.”

"Yet you agreed to live with me.” Oikawa's breath is hot and ticklish on Hajime’s still-dampened skin, “No word of this to Makki and Mattsun,” he adds, “Wouldn't wanna give them the satisfaction.”

“I’d never.”

_Because I'm just as ridiculous, aren't I?_

Neither of them notice Matsukawa Sr. peek in through the beaded curtains, take one look at their still intertwined hands, then quietly back away, a wistful expression blossoming on his face.

Nearby, Hajime’s neglected cell phone buzzes.

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:**   **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**21 July 20XX, 3:35 PM**

 

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** let us know when u want the painkillers thx

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** hope u got those pics ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

~

 

“Oooh, what a gentleman~” Tooru swoons as Iwaizumi opens the door to help him out of the van. "Are you gonna lay your jacket down in a puddle and let me walk over it too?"

"I'm going to push you into one if you don't shut up and be grateful." Iwaizumi’s callous words don't match the cautious way he helps Tooru limp to the bleachers, ensuring that he's comfortable and out of the sun.

They separate from Matsukawa and Hanamaki, settling down where the Karasuno boys are already waiting for the semi-final beach volleyball game to start. Kuroo and Bokuto must be getting ready in the locker rooms too.

“Woah, you okay?” Sawamura eyes his soon-to-be setter's inflamed knee, which Iwaizumi just re-wrapped after cleaning it again this morning. “You always wear a brace but that looks fresh.”

“I was sort of stung by a jellyfish.” Tooru admits sheepishly. "Ironic, right?"

“Morbidly so.” agrees Sugawara, “Does it hurt?”

Tooru shakes his head. “It's pretty much just a swollen rash now, it's more itchy than anything.” He fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt, tempted to scratch his knee, but the vigilant look on Iwaizumi's face tells him he'll be yelled at again if he tries.

"I have allergy medication if you need it," offers Sugawara, visibly concerned. "Daichi gets hay fever a lot."

His boyfriend shrugs, "It's the pollen."

"Thanks, but I'm good for now."

The flow of conversation stilts when the Aceholes and Setsy and We Know It make their ways to the centre of the court. They're in the bigger one today, that which May the Court Be With You will be playing in for the finals this weekend, so along with Tooru and company some other spectators have gathered to watch: a few families, an old couple, some tourists, as well as the reps hosting the tournament.

Matsukawa bests Bokuto at rock-paper-scissors for the first serve, then the referee blows a whistle and the match sets off.

From the sidelines, Tooru squirms like a guilty man in a courtroom. His knee itches like _hell,_ he swears a ghost of the jellyfish's gooey tentacles is still writhing underneath his skin. He sneakily tries to scratch when he thinks Iwaizumi isn't paying attention, he makes several attempts but is never quick enough, Iwaizumi smacks his hand away with impressive reflexes. _Very_ impressive reflexes.

Tooru’s hand creeps toward his bandaging again.

Trying to be faster than Iwaizumi becomes something of a game, inevitably. They quarrel at first, discreetly smacking each other while their eyes remain trained on the navy and yellow volleyball as it bounces back and forth from one side of the net to the other, but eventually they give up on paying attention to the match in favour of acting like actual 5 year olds sparring on a playground floor.

It is only when Tooru nearly falls off the bleachers, his assailant instinctively saving him by the now-stretched out collar of his lavender t-shirt, does Iwaizumi eventually relent, "It's not even itchy anymore is it?"

Tooru's knee stopped bothering him a long while ago.

"No-pe." he pops the ‘p’ sound impassively. "You'll be a good doctor." he adds without thinking.

"And you the worst patient." Iwaizumi doesn't hide the hint of warmth on his face, “Thanks."

The remainder of the game draws on, particularly because Bokuto has a bit of an episode in the middle of the second set, giving the Aceholes an opportunity to catch up to Setsy and We Know It's set point, and extend the match one more round.

The Aceholes lose in the end, and even though they all cheered for both teams, Tooru can't help but feel a little biased towards Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Not because he knows May the Court Be With You would most likely win against them in the finals, but moreso that he wanted to see his two close friends achieve a victory they couldn't for the past few summers.

Nonetheless, at this point everyone is a good sport about it.

“That was awesome!” Bokuto proclaims, throwing his arms around his competitors necks in the raucous way he often does. They all expect the rough affection by now. “I’m gonna be _so_ sore tomorrow morning!”

“And now so will I.” a fettered Matsukawa relinquishes.

“I've looked forward to facing you guys every year.” Kuroo fishes inside of a cooler bag at Sawamura's feet to retrieve a water bottle, which he doesn't drink, but dump right over his head. It flattens out his unruly hair. “I can always count on a challenge.”

“Wait until you play against our captains then.” says Hanamaki.

“Awww Makki!" Tooru coos, "I _knew_ you loved me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

"You'll admit it one day, they all do. You and Iwa-chan both~"

"You are _so_ lucky you're already injured right now." Iwaizumi informs him brusquely. “So very lucky.”

“Anyway, how’s your knee Oikawa?” Kuroo asks, “We heard you got stung by a jellyfish.”

“I think you’re supposed to pee on those.” Bokuto supplies.

“Nobody peed on me thanks,” quips Tooru, “And it’s fine, I’ll be able to play as long as I take it easy for the next few days.”

“That’s good.” Kuroo runs a hand through his dampened hair, “I wonder, are those serves are still as savage as I remember?”

Tooru is completely taken off guard when Iwaizumi throws an arm around his shoulder and says, “They are.” with a positively dauntless expression.

His insides turn to mush, Kuroo's "Can't wait." gone unheard.

How can two short words, two syllables even, shut Tooru down so completely?

No, there’s no way this is just attraction. Not a simple crush either. These feelings he’s been suppressing are much, much worse than that, because a meaningful look can get his pulse racing marathons, a mundane touch sets his skin aflame. It’s like he’s harbouring a dangerous secret, and the more he feeds the flames the wilder they become.

Iwaizumi’s unwavering loyalty reminds Tooru of how irrevocably, hopelessly taken he is with him, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last before he gives in to temptation, gives up _everything_  just for a chance to hear those three forbidden words. And _fuck,_ he'll admit it- he wants to hear them more than _anything._ On a drunken whim or otherwise.

_That’s it, that’s the problem._

It’s like he’s betraying his very best friend, because Iwaizumi and him don't do secrets, they know each other much too well for those.

_It’s me._

 

~

 

Later in the evening, they check out a popular tourist destination called the Enoshima Sea Candle, an observation tower located at the centre of the island.

“The view is best in the evening.” Matsukawa mentions as the rest are ascending the spiral staircase to the observation deck- he and Tooru take the elevator because of his knee.

And hell if Matsukawa isn’t right- beneath the tower is a massive garden covered with colourful lights, purples and pinks and golds, but what can be seen in the distance from the top of the tower is perhaps even more beautiful; to the west there is Fuji-san, an ever-handsome landmark in central Japan, and to the east is the expansive Miura Peninsula. Oshima Island is lit up in the south, and north, far in the distance but still distinct in the evening sky, is the glittering Tokyo skyline.

“Look! You can make out the Sky Tree! Oh, and that way is Yokohama Landmark tower!” Tooru excitedly turns to Sugawara, who is standing on his other side.

“Hm? Yeah…” Sugawara sighs, looking rather listless despite the magnificent view before him.

“Suga-chan? You okay?”

His fellow former-setter stares morosely into the city, lost in the billions of assorted neon lights. “Honestly, not really.”

He’s unsure if it’s appropriate given they’ve really only been friends for two weeks, but Tooru asks him anyways, “Wanna talk about it?"

Sugawara glances around the observation deck. The others are all in close proximity so he hauls Tooru off to the opposite end, presumably for some privacy. Tooru sends Iwaizumi a quick text to inform him that the two of them are having a moment to themselves.

He slides his phone in his pocket and turns back to Sugawara. They’re comfortably silent for a while, watching the sun as it lazily sets over the peninsula, retiring for the day, until finally Sugawara speaks,

“Keep an eye on Daichi for me in Tokyo, would you?” the breeze ruffles his hair around in a silvery halo, swaying with the string lights above, “He may not look it… but sometimes he gives so much of himself to volleyball and his studies, taking an insane amount of responsibility to bear on his own shoulders, that he forgets he's still just a teenager too.”

“I can definitely do that,” Tooru promises, however hypocritical that promise may be, “but Suga-chan, are you not also coming to Tokyo?”

He is genuinely surprised when Sugawara shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Tooru hesitates, “I know you're not continuing with volleyball anymore but I kind of assumed I’d be seeing the both of you in the city.”

“My mom is an English professor at Sendai University so I get free tuition there.” Sugawara reveals dismally, “It’s hard justifying anywhere else, you know? Especially ‘cause I travelled a lot as a kid before moving to Miyagi. And my family doesn't understand why I'd want to move again after we finally settled down. I'm lucky and all, but is it that selfish of me to be a bit disappointed? For the first time ever, I feel like I’m stuck." Sugawara sighs, his expression crestfallen, "Actually, Daichi wasn’t even gonna go to Tokyo at first, he didn’t want to leave me but I convinced him anyways. Meiji’s volleyball team is one of the best in the country, he’d be insane not to take up a scholarship.”

Tooru can attest to that too, a scholarship from Meiji is indeed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, especially for anyone aiming towards the national league.

“If you don't mind me asking… are you and Sawamura, like, _out_ at home? Or do you keep it on the down-low?” He still isn't sure whether or not it's his place to ask such personal questions, but Sugawara did accept his offer to talk, and Tooru’s curiosity is eating him alive.

“Well, everyone on the team knows. We told them all after nationals.”

“Really? And that was okay?”

“It was _more_ than okay, it was one of my favourite memories from high school.” Sugawara smiles wistfully, looking reminiscent, “Mostly they just yelled ‘I knew it!’ or 'finally!' when we came out. My heart was so full, Daichi and I received nothing but blessings. I'd been afraid for no reason, because every single person on that team knew what we meant to each other. A few of them _did_ start calling us team mom and dad afterwards, though.”

“Oh? Even Tobio-chan?” asks Tooru.

“It was the second years mostly, but Kageyama did call me mom once.”

“Suga-chan, you just made my day.” Tooru admits gleefully. The ever-present petty part of him will forever treasure such hilarious blackmail material. “Still, times are definitely changing and I’m glad."

Feeling optimistic, Tooru indulges himself in imagining how former Seijou might react if a teammatewere to come out. He’s never dared to consider it before, but he now has no doubt they’d react like Karasuno, because his vice-captain and him brought up a good bunch of kids too.

“What about your actual family?” Tooru immediately regrets this question, because with it Sugawara’s smile wavers, “Sorry, if it's a touchy subject you don't need to talk about it.”

“No no, it's fine.” his companion waves him off with a hand, “Daichi’s parents are supportive of our relationship. My mom and sisters are pretty open minded too, but my step-dad…” Sugawara grips the bannister in front of him, “We’ve never been that close so I haven't said anything, but I think he knows. He probably denies it, convinced himself it's a phase or something. He never looks Daichi or me in the eye when we’re together.”

Tooru’s optimism is short lived when he thinks of his own father’s perpetually stern expression and rigidly traditional conservatism. Oikawa Keizuo would not react kindly if his only son were to tell him he’s in a relationship with anyone other than a woman who would someday deliver him intelligent, talented grandchildren.

“Sounds like something _my_ dad would do.”

“Honestly, there are so many supportive people in my life that his opinion doesn't really matter to me anymore.” Sugawara grimaces, “Though I’m sure he’s pleased that Daichi won’t be around come autumn.”

"You did the right thing Suga-chan.” Tooru places his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “You must love Sawamura a lot.”

“I really do.” Sugawara professes, but then his nose scrunches up, the space between his eyebrows crinkling, “You know, we came on this trip to spend the rest of the summer together and forget about what’s to come, but still, I-” his voice cracks but he continues, “I probably won't see him again for months after we get home. This is our goodbye.”

Tooru bites down on his lip, “Oh, Suga-chan. It's never goodbye." 

A single tear inevitably rolls down Sugawara’s pale cheek, but quickly he rubs it away, evidently embarrassed. “Ugh, sorry Oikawa. I didn't mean to dump all this on you.”

“I wouldn't have asked to talk if I minded.” Tooru assures him. “I can tell you two have been through a great deal, something like this won't separate you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sugawara lets out a watery sigh, “I just feel so helpless.”

“I'll make sure he calls you every single day.” Tooru promises since he’ll be seeing Sawamura regularly on the team at Meiji, “And I’ll send you photos of him at practice, maybe even a few in the locker room, if you get what I mean?” He winks suggestively at Sugawara, earning him a chummy punch in the gut (because if there's one thing he's learned about Sugawara Koushi this past half month it's that much like Bokuto, he shows his affection with violence).

“I’m not going to lie, I didn't have a good impression of you in high school.” the other setter admits, his graceful smile appearing once again, “But when I got replaced by Kageyama as first-string I began to sympathize with you a bit. And now after getting to know you personally I can see how wrong I initially was. You’re a real friend, Oikawa.”

Tooru has truly come to like the two former Karasuno captains in their days spent together in Enoshima thus far. They've become friends he never could have predicted, given past circumstances. He’s delighted to hear that Sugawara feels the same.

“I'm thrilled to welcome you to my fan club, Suga-chan.” Tooru grins cheekily, which earns him another punch.

“Speaking of fan club, what about you and Iwaizumi, then? Have you found a place yet?”

“He’d  _kill_ you if he heard you say that.” Tooru giggles, “But yes, we have a few options. We’re gonna stop by and check them out on our way back to Miyagi.” his gaze catches on the silhouette of the city in question, almost as if he could pinpoint the place from this far in the distance. “They’re all on the Yamanote line so it’ll be easy for both of us to get to school.”

Sugawara hums, “Nice, you two have it made.”

 _We really don’t though,_ Tooru thinks.

Almost automatically, he glances towards the object of his thoughts on the other side of the landing. Iwaizumi notices right away, as if he's been waiting for it; his phone is readily in hand, and he gives Tooru a nod that says _I’ve got you covered, take all the time you need._

The gesture is mundane, it's simple, but still, it makes Tooru feel so much he _burns._

Maybe he’s not ready to come out to his team, or his family, and especially not to Iwaizumi.

But if there’s one thing he’s learned over the years it’s that baby steps are necessary when confronting the vast unknown. Volleyball games are not won without practice, and astronauts and are not launched into space without careful preparation. But to get anywhere they all need _courage,_ and courage comes much easier when you know you have support to fall back on. An ace who you can count on receiving your toss in a pinch, decades of rations in case your ship falls out of orbit.

Maybe Tooru’s always liked outer space because no one ever expects the stars to be anything other than what they are.

“Can I tell you something?” he turns back to Sugawara, “I've never told anyone this before."

“Oh, of course. After I basically broke down in front of you, my lips are sealed.”

Admitting it out loud is simply the first step- gravity collapsing in on itself; the death of a red supergiant is the harbinger of a supernova.

“I love him.” Tooru confesses quietly, “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember, and there are so many reasons why it’s _wrong_ that I’m drowning in them.”

“Come here.” Sugawara pulls Tooru into a full-fledged hug.

“I- I thought I could ignore it. That it’d go away.” he murmurs, “But it can’t- I can’t."

“Oikawa, listen to me, please.” begs Sugawara earnestly, “The world is a cruel place, but there’s more people like us than you think. We have to support each other- it’s how we’ve survived since the beginning.” he squeezes his companion tight, “So if you ever need to get away, or talk, you can call me. I’m here for you, and Daichi is too. Trust me when I say you’re not in this alone. You’re not _wrong.”_

Briefly, Tooru sees a flash of his older sister in his new friend, and he lets out a staggering breath.

_Team mom indeed._

“I have _so_ many resources I can send you. About literally everything. Heartbreak, gender dysphoria, you name it.”

“Thanks, Suga-chan.” Tooru squeezes the other setter back. “Thank you so much.”

He doesn’t know where he’s going but he feels closer to getting there with Sugawara’s support. It’s true, because Iwaizumi has taught him that the team is stronger with six. That even astronauts don’t fly into space alone. Getting lost amongst the cosmos isn’t so bad with company.

It was indeed a baby step, to not just admit it but embrace it. He’s in love with his best friend and it’s not wrong, it’s just very, very unfortunate. People have gotten over heartache before, so Tooru can too. He and Iwaizumi can go back to what they’ve always been. Or something similar, at least. It might be different. It might be _more,_ but with support it’s possible, and just like in volleyball, even in astronomy, all Tooru ever needed to drive him was _possible._

His phone buzzes in his pocket then, so he lets go of Sugawara to pull it out.

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Oikawa Tooru✌**

**25 July 20XX, 9:22 PM**

 

 **Iwa-chan:** sawamuras worried

 **Iwa-chan:** hes about to walk over there jsyk

 **Iwa-chan:** I tried to stall him but...

 

 **Me** : we're done now anyway!! just had a chat~

 **Me:** thx iwachan (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

 

“Shall we head back?” asks Sugawara amiably.

Tooru nods, tucking his phone away once more, “Definitely, or your boyfriend might have a heart attack.”

Sugawara throws his head back when he laughs. “He very well might.”

 

~

 

As per Hajime’s suggestion days before, the Seijou boys treat Matsukawa’s uncle to a meal near the final stretch of their trip. Rather than go out somewhere, the older man had requested they stay in, so he closes up shop early while his guests prepare him a barbecue feast because his favourite meal is the same as his nephew’s: an extra cheesy hamburger with every condiment conceivable.  

Hanamaki, the only one with actual culinary skill (though his expertise lies in baking) mans the grill while Hajime slices various burger toppings, Oikawa sets the table, and Matsukawa throws together some side dishes. As per Matsukawa Sr's request, Hanamaki even bakes his specialty, custard-filled profiteroles, for dessert.

It's a tight fit in the townhouse’s squashy dining room, especially considering three of the five occupants are well over 6 feet tall. It’s a delectable meal nevertheless, they chat with their generous host about the usual humdrum things: school, home life, volleyball. Inescapably, the topic of relationships comes up.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Tooru-kun?” asks Matsukawa Sr, and as he typically does at the subject, Oikawa cranks the pretentiousness up a few notches. Hajime’s eyebrow automatically begins to twitch.

“Though it crushes my heart rejecting all of the lovely suitors that confess to me, at the moment I need a break to focus on myself.”

“And thank god for that.” Hajime mutters. Hanamaki barely contains his laughter, especially when Matsukawa Sr. deflects the question to him instead.

“How about you, Hajime-kun?”

“Iwa-chan’s never had a girlfriend,” Oikawa snipes quickly, before Hajime can even string together a reply, “He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body.”

Hajime bristles. "I’ll make sure _you_ have no romantic bones left in your body if you cut me off one more time.”

"I think Oikawa could do without a _certain_ romantic bone for a while." Hanamaki jibes.

"Please don't talk about Oikawa's dick while I'm eating my favourite meal." Matsukawa begs. _“Please.”_

"Why are you all so cruel to your captain!?"

 _"Former_ captain."

Hajime tunes them out, still bothered by Oikawa's remark. He looked a little _too_ self-satisfied at Hajime's lack of a love life, and the astute hilt of Matsukawa Sr.’s grin across the table reminds him of the big family dinners he'd have back in Miyagi on holidays where his nosy grandparents would perpetually pester him with the same tireless questions about dating;

 _'You should take some pointers from your friend Tooru-kun,’_ they'd say, _‘What a dashing young man, he’ll definitely find himself a good wife with wits like that.’_

Hajime would always brush off that old song and dance, retort with something like _‘Sure, sure.’_ or _‘I’m too busy with volleyball.’_ He’d secretly revel in the truth- Oikawa did have an obnoxious amount of admirers but he couldn't hold a girlfriend longer than a few weeks.

What’s most curious, though, is that he never seemed to _want_ to. Hajime often wonders why he bothered in the first place. Was it out of obligation? To please his parents? Or maybe to feed his ravenous ego? It certainly explains why he was never terribly sad when girls dumped him, because on the occasions Hajime asked him if he wanted to talk about it _,_ Oikawa would just brush him off-  _‘About what?_ ’ and the two of them would spend the evening as they always did, curled up on Hajime’s bed with a sci-fi movie on screen.

But soon, very soon... paramours might not just be forgettable nobodies with crushes who at most might get thoughtless store-bought chocolate on White Day anymore. Oikawa may bring a beautiful stranger from a party home to their apartment for a hookup, or have one too many study dates with a particularly cute classmate. Maybe he’ll even download one of those new dating apps and meet a girl online who has the same geeky love for space as him, and they’ll end up blissfully engaged as soon as they graduate, a promise for the cookie-cutter family Oikawa’s father had always expected of him only a wedding ring away.

Hajime’s blood simmers under his skin. The thought of his best friend married off seems cataclysmic, now. Desolating to the nth degree.

Is it because they're finally grown up? Now too old to marathon all six _Alien_ movies in a row on a lazy Sunday, yet old enough at last for a relationship to actually mean something serious?

Oikawa may find someone for real next time, in fact he certainly will, and there’s nothing Hajime will be able to do to stop it.

 _Wait,_ his anger falters, his blood flip-flops from boiling hot to ice cold. _Do I want to stop it?_

 _No, I just don’t want to witness him being even more obnoxious,_ he persuades himself, but the excuse isn’t assuring. This feeling, this maelstrom of confliction, he won’t lie to himself, there’s only one thing it could be.

_(What would you do if Oikawa asked to kiss you?)_

Matsukawa Sr. taps him on the shoulder just then, and Hajime realizes he’s been glaring holes into his empty plate.

“Would you like to come outside for some air with me?”

_I must look like I need it._

“Alright.”

Suspending further introspection on his complicated sentiments for his best friend, Hajime joins the older man on the veranda.

It’s raining outside. Matsukawa Sr. pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket but the drizzle makes it difficult to get a light, so Hajime helps him by cupping his hands around the end to block it out.

After a word of thanks they settle into two wooden muskoka chairs on the varanda, quiet as the miscellaneous hanging plants above them sway with the wind. Despite the storm, Hajime feels immediately calmer, and after a lengthy drag, Matsukawa Sr. breaks their silent spell,

“I’m impressed with the skillful way you’ve been treating Tooru-kun’s wound.” he says. "You have a knack for it."

“Thanks, but I’ve just had a lot of practice.” Hajime admits, “Oikawa, among others on our team, was pretty reckless when it came to volleyball so I learned what I could to help in urgent situations. If I wasn’t there to take care of him…”

 _He’d probably be in rough shape,_ Hajime reckons, _with an even slimmer chance of making it to the national league._

“Hmm, it's quite obvious now.” Matsukawa Sr. taps some ashes into the tray on the table between them, “You’re doing it because of him.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Going into physiotherapy.” the older man explains.

“Well, uh,” Hajime scratches his neck sheepishly. “When you put it that way...“

_He’s not really wrong._

Nearby wind chimes titter distantly. The salty smell of the ocean permeates the air, assailing his nose. He’s wearing a full tracksuit, and they’re covered by a roof, but still Hajime feels exposed, battered down to his bones by the tremulous seaside wind.

“I’d like to give you some advice, Hajime-kun. Only because you remind me of my younger self.” The laugh lines around Matsukawa Sr.’s mouth crease as he exhales a great plume of white smoke. His gaze is far away when he says, “Do not let what you love slip away from you, or you will regret it into your old age, and wind up alone like me.”

 _What I love?_ Hajime ponders.

“Take every chance you are given, because an opportunity not taken is an opportunity missed. I learned that a little too late.”

The 18-year-old doesn’t know what to make of that, so he remains quiet, stewing it over in his head.

“You don’t need to understand right now,” Matsukawa assures him, “Just promise me you’ll keep this senile old man’s advice in your heart.”

“I promise.” Hajime’s reply is resolute.

“I’m very glad.” Matsukawa nods, looking plaintive but still pleased, “Remember, you and Tooru-kun are welcome here anytime. The train ride from Tokyo to Enoshima is barely an hour.”

“Definitely expect some future visits from us.” Hajime stands up from his chair to offer the man a gratuitous bow. “Thank you so much for everything, Ji-san. You’ve been beyond hospitable these past few weeks.”

“That’s not necessary my boy, it’s been a pleasure having you.” the older man snuffs out his cigarette, tossing the butt into his ashtray, “Now, since you’re up, go get me one of those pastries Takahiro-kun made would you?”

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:**    **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**25 July 20XX, 10:10 PM**

 

 **Me:** hey, any way you could still send me those pamphlets?

 **Me** : the ones we talked about before

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:**  Yes, absolutely!

 **Sawamura Daichi:**  [[x] link attached](https://vaden.stanford.edu/sites/default/files/coming_out_brochure.pdf)

 **Sawamura Daichi:** [[x] link attached](http://www.torontocas.ca/sites/torontocas/files/outandproudcomingout.pdf)

 **Sawamura Daichi:** Let me know if you would like some more.

 

 **Me:** thx sawamura youre a pal

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:** You're welcome! If you have any questions Suga and I will be glad to answer them for you.

 

 **Me:** I dont mind your bf but can you please not spread it around just yet?

 **Me:** i dont wanna... idk, jump the gun

 **Me:** im just informing myself on stuff for now

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:** Of course! I would never forcibly out someone, that's an awful thing to do!

 **Sawamura Daichi:**  Take your time, Iwaizumi :-)

 

 **Me:** maybe after i've read them ill join you for a jog again and we can discuss

 

 **Sawamura Daichi:** That's a great idea!

 

~

 

“Where’s my next exit?” asks Hanamaki from the driver’s seat.

They’re taking the scenic route back to Matsukawa’s uncle’s house from the beauty supply store in Kamakura, a nearby city, which Tooru had nothing short of begged Hanamaki to drive him to since his patience for the fluffy mess that had subsumed his hair had run out the day they arrived. He already tried to hijack his van and just drive himself there but Hanamaki sleeps with his keys under his pillow, because he _really_ loves this old metal box for some odd reason.  

Basically, the trip was long overdue. Tooru's split ends would agree.

“Uhh,” Tooru enlarges Google Maps on his phone, “In 7.8 kilometers exit highway 134 left onto prefecture route 305.”

“‘Gotcha.”

The fuzzy pink dice hanging from the rear view mirror swing and bump with each swerve on the winding seaside road. Utada Hikaru’s _First Love_ wafts melodically from the speakers, lulling them both into the kind of trance only achievable on peaceful and scenic car rides.

After his talk with Sugawara atop the Sea Candle Tooru’s been feeling more relaxed than he has all trip, ironically, especially given they have less than a week left until they leave.

He’s accepted that moving in with Iwaizumi is sure to be a bittersweet affair, what with this war waging inside of him. He swears he’ll do his best to get over it once university starts, and he’s _hopeful_ it’ll get easier, and not just because he has support to fall back on.

He and Iwaizumi won't be seeing each other as regularly as they're used to. Still daily, mind you, but not hourly. Not like they do now. For once they'll have separate lives, different classes and colleagues and friends. Sure, the prospect of distance weighs on Tooru; independence is new and scary and certainly not something he wants apart from his best friend but perhaps it’s the only way they can continue as they’ve been.

Then again, Tooru has always been more than a little possessive.

“Hey, Makki?”

“What’s up captain?” his friend hums, glazed eyes dutifully on the road.

“You’ve dated before right?”

“You mean Atsuko-chan?” Hanamaki ponders, “What about her?”

Tooru watches the street signs pass in tandem; _Cape Inamuragasaki 3 km, Shichirigahama 6 km, Enoshima Island 11 km._

“Were you in love with her?”

His friend drums his fingers against the wheel, considering it for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t think so. She was nice and all but when we broke up and she moved to Osaka I just unfollowed her on Instagram.” he side glances at Tooru in the passenger’s seat, eyebrows raised, “Are you asking me for relationship advice? _You?_ Asking _me?”_

Tooru huffs, clutching the shopping bag on his lap more tightly. “I’m having a crisis.” he relinquishes, “And I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth it.”

“If _love_ is worth it?” Hanamaki asks, quite bewildered, “Are you in love, Oikawa?”

Set free once already, the answer escapes Tooru’s lips more easily than it had the first time, “Yes, and cutting off contact is not an option if things go wrong, so I don't think I should tell him.”

 _“Him,_ huh?”

 _Did I make a mistake adding that part?_ But back at the aquarium Hanamaki told Kuroo he was fine with it, so Tooru doesn’t think so.

“You’re being serious.” Hanamaki realizes, “Wow, okay, let me just turn this over in my head for a bit. Do you mind if we make a pitstop? There’s something I wanna try.”

Still only partway to Matsukawa’s house, they exit the highway onto a busy street nearby the main town, parallel parking on a side road. Neither of them bring up Tooru’s crisis as Hanamaki leads them to a nearby shop front. _Icecream Monaka,_  it’s sign says, _Enoshima’s Specialty!_

“What’s a monaka?” Tooru peers behind the counter curiously.

“You’ll love it.” says Hanamaki, “Go save us that bench over there, I’ll be right back.”

Dazed, Tooru obeys his friend as he approaches the shopkeeper.

His phone chimes in his pocket, so he pulls it out to check who it is.

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Oikawa Tooru✌**

**26 July 20XX, 3:34 PM**

 

 **Bokuto:** LOOK AT THESE!!

 **Bokuto:**  THEY REMINDED ME OF U LOL

 **Bokuto:** [[x] image attached](https://www.ebay.ca/itm/Get-In-Loser-Funny-Alien-Abduction-UFO-Coffee-Mug/332731139338?hash=item4d7852450a:m:ms5jnBgd5RQMvFGtD4Rjehg)

 

 **Me:** brb im buying those right this instant

 

“It’s Iwaizumi.” Hanamaki sits beside Tooru on the bench, holding out what appears to be a shell-shaped icecream sandwich.

“It’s Bokuto actually.” Tooru informs him.

“Not the text, the guy you’re in love with.” Hanamaki grins like a cheshire cat.

Tooru feels the colour drain from his face, his mouth going bone dry, “Uh.”

“I'm right!” Hanamaki exclaims, and Tooru begins to doubt if telling him was indeed a wise idea. “You’re never this serious about anyone else. Plus I don't think Bokuto is your type."

"Should I even _ask_ what you think my type is-"

"That's easy- dark hair, small eyes, perpetually irked expression. Exactly 179 centimeters. Has arms that would lift they weight of the world if they could- and they probably could."

 _“Please,_ Makki, please please please," Tooru begs him, face on fire, "For the love of god don't say anything to him."

“Hey! I wouldn’t do that to you, have more faith in me. We’ve been friends for how long?”

Tooru thinks, _four years, almost._

"Besides, I cant really say I'm  _surprised_."

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

Hanamaki shrugs, and takes a bite out of his monaka. Tooru huffs and follows suit- vanilla icecream and tsubuan paste sandwiched between crispy wafers does make for a delicious combination.

“Wait, who else have you told?" Hanamaki asks, "Does Matsukawaknow too?”

“No, only Sugawara does. And I guess Sawamura, by extension. And now you.”

Even though Hanamaki hasn’t reacted negatively, the prospect of so many people knowing makes Tooru feel a little more vulnerable. He's anxious, but at the same time each breath he takes comes easier, like there's less of a weight on his chest. It’s a relieving risk, coming out. Oxymoronic as it is, he can’t think of another way to describe it. _A baby step._

“Oikawa! This is a big deal” Hanamaki rambles excitedly, “A really big deal!”

“I wish it wasn't.” Tooru stares at his favourite pair of mint Converse as he swings his legs back and forth on the bench. They’re scuffed a bit at the toe, he’ll have to clean them once they get back.

“So what are you gonna do?”

Tooru shakes his head, “That’s my crisis. Seeing Sugawara and Sawamura all lovey-dovey makes me want to tell him but...” he trails off. “There are just too many risks.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think that guy could say no to you if his life depended on it.” Hanamaki swallows the rest of his monaka, crumpling the leftover wrapper in a ball to toss in the trash bin nearby, “Oh shit, I totally forgot to post these. They were so cute too.”

“The world won’t end if you don’t take out your camera for one minute, Makki.”

He tuts, “Nevermind that.” then stands in front of his former captain on the bench, placing a hand on each shoulder to force Tooru to look at him head-on. “I can’t tell you what to do, you have to decide that on your own. But I know _both_ of you, so whatever the outcome is you’ll conquer it together. Try to trust in your ace a little more.”

Tooru slumps beneath him, sighing, “If only this was as familiar as volleyball.”

"What's so scary about the unknown? You've never been a coward, Oikawa." Hanamaki releases him, offers to help him up from the bench instead.

“Thanks, Makki.”

“I don’t buy seashell shaped treats or drive to far away beauty product stores for just anyone.” he fishes for his car keys, leading Tooru back to the van, “Also, you don’t get to say that I hate you anymore.”

Tooru grins, “I never for a second believed you did.”

 

~

 

Standing across the court from formidable opponents who’ve yet to see defeat, all while surrounded by dozens of onlookers, some they know, some they don’t, isn’t a new experience for Oikawa Tooru.

This time however, on the sidelines are people he doesn’t have to impress. No scouters, nor enemy teams. No rivals, fangirls, or even expectant parents. On the other side of the net he sees the fiery smiles of two friends, not the furrowed brows and scrutinizing gaze of enemies.

Yes, he had laid out every single facet of Bokuto Koutarou and Kuroo Tetsurou’s volleyball abilities like a grocery list in his head, but once the whistle actually blew he didn't care about any of it.

When May the Court Be With You loses by several points in the third set, for once in his life, Tooru isn’t even remotely disappointed. It’s true that his (promptly healing) knee slowed him down, and he'll admit a weekend at an onsen in Hakone alone with Iwaizumi sounds like a fantasy, but still- seeing Bokuto and Kuroo get crowned with colourful floral crowns and well-deserved medals for not the first but the third time makes him feel proud to have such capable, talented friends.

And then there is Iwaizumi.

The final whistle blows, and a solid but warm weight crashes torrentially into Tooru, nearly knocking him off his feet. He is captured by a familiar pair of arms which encircle him completely (perfectly).  

It’s rare for Iwaizumi to hug him first.

“Did you have fun, Iwa-chan?” Tooru whispers into the shell of his ear. He wraps his arms around his best friend’s shoulders, feels the frenetic beating of their pulses as the adrenaline dwindles away.

“I always do.” Iwaizumi replies, almost incredulously, “But did you?”

Tooru pulls back and sees that Iwaizumi is studying him- not like a jellyfish behind a glass wall but moreso like he’s searching for something in Tooru’s own enamoured features, and Tooru isn’t sure what it is exactly but he certainly wants to provide it if he’s able to. That guarded, fragile place of longing, the final piece of his heart he hides within empty words and artificial smiles, tossing volleyballs to meet expectations notwithstanding of what he’s _really_ wanted since they've met. Since forever.

(Without an ounce of hesitation he’d give Iwaizumi everything, all of him, if he ever did ask)

So he says “Absolutely.” and it must have been the right answer because it earns Tooru an extraordinary display of his favourite dimples.

Months ago, he never would have thought that someone who just lost the gold could be so happy.

Not just Iwaizumi, but himself as well.

“Great game guys!”

“Now Matsukawa owes me ¥1000~”

The moment is disrupted when their friends shout at them excitedly, popping the intimate bubble around Iwaizumi and him to let the rest of the world flood back in. They have joined them for much needed refreshments on the bleachers when Kuroo and Bokuto return from their moment of glory with flowers in their hair and shiny gold medals hanging around their necks.

“Congrats you two!” voices Sugawara.

“We’ll get you next year.” swears Hanamaki. "You tricky bastards."

Tooru gallantly turns to face the Tokyo duo, he offers out a hand to shake like Kuroo did the day they met again in Enoshima but Kuroo pushes it away. He removes his earned flower crown and places it instead upon Tooru’s head.

The brunet can’t help but feel as if the gesture is a seal on the deal of their newfound friendship.

“It looks much better on you, pretty boy.” Kuroo purses his lips, then turns to his own partner, “What do you think Bo?”

“Hm, something's missing.” Bokuto takes off his own flower crown too, then plops it right on an unsuspecting Iwaizumi. “There!”

“Oi-” Iwaizumi fiddles with it but doesn't take it off.

“Aw, you guys~!” Tooru gushes gleefully at the sight. Contrary to his marshmallow-soft heart his best friend is all spikes and angles, so the crown of delicate plumerias, hibiscuses, and proteas adorning Iwaizumi’s hair makes Tooru’s chest cave in.

“Thank you.”

Kuroo and Bokuto pull out their favourite matching aviators again. “Can’t mess with our dress code.” Bokuto shrugs.

Kuroo slides his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose. “We’re Setsy and We Know It for a reason.”

“Ne, Kuroo, how were my serves?” Tooru waggles his eyebrows. “As savage as you’d hoped?”

“Quite.” the other captain concedes, “Iwaizumi was right, one more set and I definitely would have developed carpal tunnel."

“I always am.” Iwaizumi offhandedly reminds them. He goes for a sip of water and Tooru nudges the bottle upwards so it spills all over his mouth, soaking the front of his shirt. He earns a smack on the head for it.

“I still can't believe this was your first time playing beach volleyball!” Bokuto pipes in, visibly impressed, “I never woulda thought! You guys are crazy good!”

“Your synchronization has always been amazing, even in high school." Kuroo subscribes, "It’s like you're on the same wavelength.”

“Well, we do have years of _perfect trust_ between us.” Iwaizumi regards Tooru with a curious twinkle in his unwavering eyes. There’s something profound in those steely depths and it hits Tooru hard.

It’s like they’re in that private bubble again, whenever their eyes meet like this. It’s like they always are. It’s he and Iwaizumi against the world, no, not fighting against it but existing within it. He’s learned that now.

What if- What if he just threw in the towel and tackled Iwaizumi into the sand, ravishing him until he’s dizzy, consequences be damned?

What if he came clean, came _out-_ bubble popped baring him to all? It went well with Sugawara and Hanamaki, would Iwaizumi react any differently? Or is that marshmallow-soft heart cold and hard somewhere on the inside? Because surely it's different when someone close to you comes out- someone you're about to live with for the next four years. Someone you've lived with your whole life.

Tooru bites his lip, aching to grab him and just _kiss him_ and see what happens next more than ever right then.

He feels Sugawara jab him with an elbow, a warning that his bubble is transparent, _incriminating_.

How long will it be before Iwaizumi sees right through anyways?

 

~

 

Hajime’s breath catches when he steps onto the balcony and sets his sight upon his best friend.

It’s not like he’s never seen Oikawa dressed up before, he has on countless occasions: during festivals in Sendai, like Tanabata just a few weeks ago, at graduation- first from elementary school, then middle school, and now high school. Even at his elder sister's wedding several years ago.

The only son of the Oikawa family is always dressed to the nines, but tonight there’s something different about him. He’s wearing a magnificent teal yukata with shiny goldfish embroidered near the bottom and ends of the sleeves. The obi around his slender waist is a deeper shade, and he’s kept the gifted flower crown from earlier fixed around his head, the yellows and ambers of the tropical petals stark against his now-tamed auburn hair.

His handsomeness is otherworldly, like a young god torn right out of a folktale, or a bewitching spirit turned mortally human. He looks more beautiful than Hajime’s ever seen in fifteen years of friendship, and the only coherent thought he can muster at the sight is,

_Fuck, I’m probably gay._

Oikawa props a hand on his hip. “Iwa-chan, you’re drooling.”

_Goddamn those pamphlets._

"Is that new?" Hajime expertly ignores the jibe, gesturing to the whole ensemble. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“It was an early birthday gift from my dad. Belonged to my grandfather, apparently. Thought I’d bring it along for the festival.” Oikawa scrutinizes Hajime, who is wearing the same navy yukata he’s worn to every event that's ever required one. (He's been secretly holding out for another growth spurt and has refused to buy a new one).

Without warning, Oikawa takes a step closer and begins to roll up Hajime’s sleeve, unveiling the bronzed skin hidden beneath. Hajime doesn't resist. From this angle, Oikawa’s eyelashes look ridiculously long fanning over his cheeks, like cattails fluttering in the wind.

“You should show off your nice arms.” says Oikawa, moving onto the other sleeve.

“Nice arms?” Hajime parrots, eyebrows raised.

“I meant to say tan! _Tan!”_ Oikawa hastily corrects himself, finishing up with the last fold.

“Tan and arms don’t sound that much alike.”

“Shush, I’m doing you a favour here.”

Hajime doesn't press further at the non sequitur when dexterous hands smooth down the front of his yukata, straightening his obi. A coral tongue peeks out of Oikawa’s mouth when he once-overs his subject a final time. Subconsciously, Hajime licks his lips.

“There, that’s better.” Oikawa steps away.

Hajime wonders if he looks as thunderstruck as he feels when he says, “Thanks?”

Oikawa seems likewise distracted. "What're friends for?"

Downstairs, the rest of their group has already gathered around Matsukawa Sr.’s kitchen table.

“Oho, looking _suave_ you two!” Bokuto whistles sharply.

Hajime could say the same for the rest of them: Hanamaki is clad in forest green, Matsukawa in rustic taupe, with Sugawara and Sawamura adorned in a peachy floral and deep crimson respectively, and now Kuroo and Bokuto all cleaned up in complimentary black and white pinstripes.

“Guys, the ref said we can get free food coupons if we show our wristbands at one of the stalls.” Matsukawa announces. Many an ear perks up at the key words _free_ and _food_ together in the same sentence.

“What do you say Suga?” Sawamura snakes an arm around Sugawara’s waist, “Hungry?”

“Always,” his boyfriend says, "Especially when it's free."

So the eight of them pack once again into Hanamaki’s van, pressed together tightly like canned sardines.

Hajime is positively famished by the time they get there, his mouth waters at the intoxicating smells of yakisoba, takoyaki, and anything and everything on a stick, from grilled squid to choco-bananas to sweet potatoes.

They collect their complimentary coupons from the registration stall then follow the line of vendors, munching along the way until their bellies are full and they're flat out.

Hajime saves one for dessert- not as fond of sweets as Oikawa, he douses shaved ice with lemon syrup, savouring the bittersweet taste it leaves on his tongue.

Adorning the rest of the beachside festival are vibrant carnival games, souvenir shopping, and traditional dances, with a firework show scheduled later in the evening. Hajime’s thoughts whir with all the commotion, get lost in the intoxicating tumult of celebration. The splash of children catching goldfish with ricepaper scoops, the clinking of their elders taking aim in a game of _shateki-_  he's absentmindedly watching Hanamaki try, and fail, to limbo under a bamboo pole four feet off of the ground when Matsukawa Sr.’s advice floats to the surface of his mind,

_‘Do not let what you love slip away from you’_

_‘Because an opportunity not taken is an opportunity missed’_  

It’s almost as if the older man were warning him, there is something he must to do before their trip is over. Like find tha puzzle piece he knows is here on this island. Could these new feelings towards Oikawa be a hint in the right direction?

“Pardon,” Someone hard and large bumps into Hajime's left side then, and he realizes mid-apology that it’s the bartender from that place with the weird name they went to last week.

“Hi!” he yells over the loud music.

“You are Tetsu’s friend!” recognizes the bartender, his accent thick as honey.

“Yeah!” he nods.

They clap to the beat of the taiko drums as their mutual acquaintance successfully bends under a four foot pole. Despite his towering height, Kuroo proves to be significantly better at the limbo than both Matsukawa and Sugawara who attempted before him.

"Get that blood flowing Nekoma! Circulate that oxygen-"

Kuroo blanches at his old team chant, "Shut it, you two! You're distracting!"

Sugawara and Bokuto both heckle him.

"Just setting the mood!"

There's something about Kuroo Tetsurou that makes Hajime feel mundane. He genuinely likes the guy, it's hard not to, but unlike Oikawa, whose frivolous personality balances out his talent and good looks, he can't find a single flaw in Nekoma's former captain. Kuroo is intelligent and mysterious, yet somehow still his own brand of dork.

Even so, hanging out with him and Bokuto has been great fun, so Hajime is definitely looking forward to seeing them both more often at Keio come September- there was much euphoric hooting on Bokuto's end when they initially made this discovery.

“He is very good at this!” Arnie, Hajime remembers, comments. He nods again in agreement, but then a woman calls out to him in English, so he apologizes to Hajime and excuses himself.

“Uh, wait-!” Hajime shouts before he can leave, “What does _Undisonus_ mean?! I’ve been wondering!”

The bartender leans to speak into Hajime's ear, “Resounding with the waves. It is Latin.”

With a terse nod he is gone, so Hajime turns back to the throng of his friends, unsure of what to do with this new, probably useless information.

The drumming halts when Kuroo finally meets his match, a three foot bamboo limbo pole now laying flat in the sand.

“Aww, so close!” the crowd grieves.

“You still wooed _me_ bro!” Bokuto calls out.

“Then I’ve ultimately succeeded.” Kuroo beams, bumping Bokuto’s awaiting fist.

“Wow, he’s flexible.” Oikawa says. He's right beside Hajime now- _when did he get there?_ “Though I’m sure if my knee wasn’t busted I’d do way better.”

“Your knee is fine now, you baby.” accuses Hajime. Oikawa doesn't even need a bandage anymore, though the brace he's worn since middle school is an ever present admonition. “Plus I don’t really think it’s about being flexible.”

“Oh? How low can _you_ go, Iwa-chan? Bet you can’t bend lower than Kuroo.” There's the undeniable edge of a challenge in Oikawa’s inflection, the spark that he had ignited in Hajime becomes a wildfire when he adds, “Actually maybe you can since you’re so short.”

“I will make you eat those words, Shittykawa.”

Rashly, Hajime marches over to the limbo pole. He all but barks at the woman adjusting it that he volunteers to go next.

“I’m _starving_ Iwa-chan!” Oikawa jeers.

“I think you mean _thirsty.”_ Matsukawa mutters to Hanamaki.

“We can go back to the food area afterwards if Oikawa is still hungry?” Sawamura suggests innocently, and the two former middle blockers snort with laughter.

Hanamaki claps him on the back, “It’s not that kind of hunger, my friend.”

“Shall I move the pole back up to four feet?” the woman in charge of the limbo competition asks Hajime, “Or would you like to start at five?”

Hajime glares right at his expectant partner when he says, “Keep it at three please.”

“If you’re sure. Please stand behind the line, you may begin when the drumbeat sounds.”

Hajime complies, taking a deep breath and readying himself.

It isn’t that he wants to prove he’s better at Kuroo than something, he’s not so shallow, but moreso that Hajime knows he’s a fairly balanced person, and a challenge like this requires a levelheaded mind more than a flexible spine. He’s good at staying calm, keeping his cool. So he needs to prove it to himself, that it’s not too late to heed Matsukawa Sr.’s warning. He can be _undisonus._

Also, proving Oikawa wrong is always especially sweet.

 _Or do you mean impressing him?_ the voice from the aquarium returns to ask.

_Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum_

The drumbeat starts before Hajime can defy that thought. He closes his eyes, letting it harmonize with the pulse of his heart until they're in tune to each other, resounding with the ever present lull of the waves.

He bends backwards, slowly, carefully, and shimmies under the bamboo pole with the same temperate steadiness that has served him so well as Seijou’s trustworthy ace, and will hopefully aid him in the future as a doctor.

He knows he’s successful when the crowd erupts with applause, and the taiko’s rhythm descends from its crescendo.

"A new record! Give it up for Iwaizumi-san from Miyagi!"

Satisfied, he immediately rounds on Oikawa, a smug grin stretched connivingly across his face. Oikawa lets out a fearful squeak, and attempts to run, but Hajime snatches him by the back of his yukata.

“Careful, Iwa-chan! This is silk!” Oikawa protests when Hajime begins to drag him away from the limbo area, “It doesn’t stretch- agh!"

“Let’s go find somewhere to watch the fireworks.” He fists the slippery material tighter.

“Hhhn, you win okay?! Your height is perfectly normal for a young Japanese man, ow-!”

With a shrug, the rest of the group follows the two of them out. The show is due to start soon anyways. Hajime tows Oikawa under strands of illuminated paper lanterns, past walls of colourful plastic masks until he finds a suitable spot on a patch of grass parallel to the beach.

“Here should be good.” He tugs Oikawa down onto the grass beside him. Everyone else eventually catches up and settles nearby.

"You _fiend,"_ Oikawa haughtily dusts himself off. “Maybe I don't want to sit beside someone so violent.”

“Yes you do.” Hajime doesn’t doubt it for a second.

Oikawa grumbles something inarticulate but refrains from relocating. Content, Hajime leans back on his hands, awaiting the show.

The fireworks begin a few minutes later, and Hajime can see the night sky clear and wide- a panorama of kaleidoscopic lights.

“Y'know, I really did have fun here,” Oikawa says. The tension has all but drained from his shoulders; the booming of the fireworks reduces to background noise. “I think I’ve fallen in love with this summer a bit.”

“Me too.” Hajime observes the vibrant splashes of colour, “I’ve also...”

_fallen in love with this summer._

He swallows apprehensively. Why do the words feel so consequential on his tongue?

_I’ve fallen in love with this summer_

_I’ve fallen in love-_

“...with you.” Oikawa is saying, which startles him, so Hajime snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry, _what?”_ His heart is hammering like a drum in his chest and he has no idea _why._

“I said, it was nice getting to play volleyball one last time with you.” Oikawa’s voice is openly sincere, a timbre only those who really know him get to hear, “I hope that next summer… maybe we can come back.”

“Ah, yeah.” Hajime wills his elevated pulse to slow down. “I’m sure everyone else would join us.” he adds.

They briefly glance around- their friends seem to have naturally coupled off. Sawamura plants a quick peck on Sugawara’s cheek while Hanamaki snaps an artsy shot of Matsukawa with his cell phone, no doubt for Instagram. Kuroo leans forward to whisper something in Bokuto’s ear, which makes the other captain quiver with laughter.

Then there’s a weight on Hajime’s own shoulder, and a tickle of silky hair against his jaw. Oikawa’s extra 5cm makes Hajime a perfectly aligned headrest, and for once he’s kind of grateful for his lesser height. He’d never admit it out loud though.

 _Oh_ , Hajime realizes, _It’s not the summer, is it?_

As if the universe itself were bending for them, with uncanny timing the fireworks reach their grand finale. The crowd _oohs_ and _aahs_ as colour after colour erupts above their heads, painting the Enoshima night sky in an arbitrary rainbow.

And it’s unexpected, because contrary to all of the horror stories about falling in love that he’s heard, the revelation isn’t grandiose or earth shattering. Even that Hajime might not be straight, because after everything that's happened since arriving in Enoshima, his feelings make absolute sense to him now.

He curls right back into his best friend’s warmth. He’s been treading water the entire time when it’s been so easy to just _float._

 

~

 

After spending some more time at the festival, the group opts to hang around on the vacant beach after hours. They drag some gnarly hunks of driftwood over to sit on, while Matsukawa ignites them a bonfire with a lighter he’d nicked off his uncle. And because they hadn’t had enough food on sticks that evening, apparently, Sugawara and Sawamura run to their trusty 24 hour Lawson to grab a bag of marshmallows and a pack of hotdogs to roast over the open flame.

Tooru brushes some sand off the driftwood before making himself comfortable atop it. It’s chilly on the beach, windy and damp, but the fire flickering before him and the bodies huddled around it feel a lot like a warm embrace.

“Hotdog?” Iwaizumi holds the bag out to Kuroo, but the other captain politely declines.

“No thanks, I’m a vegetarian.” he says, so Tooru offers him the marshmallows instead. Kuroo raises a dark eyebrow, “You don’t know what those are made out of do you?”

“Sugary goodness?” Tooru replies, popping one between his lips. “Pure dollops of clouds? Cotton candy in its organic form?”

“Don’t tell him.” Iwaizumi skewers a hotdog onto his stick, “You’ll ruin his life.”

“What now?” Tooru shoves another few into his mouth, “Are you saying marshmallows are made out of something that’s _not_ squishy happiness?”

Kuroo just guffaws, “Something like that.” then tosses another log into the blaze.

Iwaizumi snatches the bag from his best friend’s grasp, “At least roast them first.” he grouses, “You’re gonna waste them all, Greedykawa.”

“Ib nob a wasde ib dey sdill eb up in by sdomach.” Tooru’s words are garbled, cheeks stuffed and puffed with marshmallow. There’s a bright flash as Hanamaki snaps a picture of him.

“You look like a chipmunk.”

“Chibmugs are cube!” Tooru swallows, then thrusts his own stick into the fire. “Please don’t post that anywhere though.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a better use for it.” Hanamaki and Matsukawa share grins made more devilish in the harsh shadows of firelight, and Tooru decides he’d rather not ask.

He attempts instead to roast the perfect marshmallow, but he keeps burning them into a blackened crisp, holding them either too high above the open flame to cook or much too deep into the fire’s smoldering centre. Somehow, Iwaizumi turns them out the right balance of golden and gooey each and every time.

“How are you getting them so _perfect?”_ Tooru badgers him when yet another of his marshmallows falls off his stick in a blaze of charred glory, “There must be some kind of technique.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, “Nope, all I do is take it out when it feels ready.”  

“Lies! You just don’t wanna share your secret. Y’know, I thought we were best friends, Iwa-chan.”

“Here,” he switches his stick with Tooru’s, a perfectly aureate marshmallow glistening on the end. He wordlessly passes the rest of the marshmallows he roasts right to Tooru from then on, not eating any himself, and Tooru’s heart swells with easy affection for it.

“Aha! You know what we need right now? Music!” Bokuto declares. There’s a unanimous chorus of agreement when he pulls up the library on his Iphone. “Japanese or English? Oh, I have some K-pop too.”

“English!”

“English is good.”

“Do you have Justin Timberlake?” Hanamaki requests.

“I’ve got it all baby, from N’Sync to the 20/20 Experience!”

Kuroo chortles, “I knew we kept you around for a reason Bo.”

Bokuto clutches his chest in offense at the slander, “Do you mean you only love me for my JT collection?”

Kuroo pats him on the shoulder, “That and your hot beefy muscles.”

“You wound me. _Wound me.”_

“Sometimes love hurts bro.”

 _Can’t argue with you there,_ Tooru doesn’t say.

The noise nearby from the festival has all but diminished, so their collective voices as they converse amidst the melodies wafting from Bokuto’s speakers, backdropped by the immutable crashing of the waves, mingle together in a midnight symphony.

Over the next few hours, Matsukawa blesses the group with his impeccable Ushijima Wakatoshi impression, Kuroo throws log upon log into the fire, and Sawamura delves into the story of how Kageyama and Hinata joined Karasuno VBC.

“It was then that they realized,” Sawamura concludes, “They can’t be rivals if they’re teammates!”

“Those rascals,” Sugawara giggles, “Daichi ended up locking them out of the clubroom until they got their shit together, but they came back right away and challenged the third years to a match!”

“Aww I miss Hinata-kun!” Bokuto coos, “He’s my favourite disciple~”

“He’s your _only_ disciple.” remarks Kuroo.

“At least I have a disciple!”

“Excuse me! Even if he denies it young Tsukki definitely learned some valuable blocking skills from yours truly.”

Tooru tunes out his friend’s banter and reminisces his own juniors: Kindaichi, Kunimi, Watari, Yahaba, Kyoutani- while they certainly drove him a little crazy at times he has to admit he misses them now like one might miss April blossoms in December. Yes, even feisty little Kyoutani- Tooru hopes he’ll have a chance to drop by Aoba Josai and see how Yahaba fares in keeping him in line.

“Ohh I _love_ this song!” Sugawara gushes when _I Want it That Way_ by the Backstreet Boys bursts from Bokuto’s phone speaker. “It used to be on the radio all the time in Australia.”

Bokuto and Kuroo immediately begin to sing along, _“You are my fire,”_ they reach out dramatically to each other, _“the one desire”_

Sugawara chuckles, “Sometimes my mom and I would dance to it in the middle of the kitchen- I’d always step on her feet though.”

Rising from the log, Sawamura holds a hand out to Sugawara, “We’re not in a kitchen but… do you want to dance?”

_“believe when I say”_

“But I might step on your feet.” Sugawara warns him.

“I don’t mind.”

He accepts the offer anyways.

_“I want it thaaaaaaaaat way”_

The rest of the group joins in on the singing with the best attempt at English they can manage. On the other side of the bonfire, Sugawara and Sawamura come together like shadows in the night. Tooru watches them undulate with the music, eyes entranced by each other’s, captured in a moment only for two.

_“tell me why, ain't nothin' but a heartache”_

He feels like he’s intruding on something private but he can’t tear his eyes away from them. It’s not the now-familiar virulence of jealousy- what settles deep in his core is the severe, steady ache of longing. Much less fleeting, much more futile.

_“tell me why, ain't nothin' but a mistake”_

By the last verse Sugawara and Sawamura are barely even dancing, just holding onto each other like a ship is sinking around them, swallowing them under, dragging them down down down.

To them it might feel that way, but sometimes that plummeting feeling isn’t asphyxiation at all. It’s that lightheadedness one gets when they’re high enough in the sky, above the clouds, past the aurora borealis, looking down on a minitismal earth from the threshold of outer space.

_“tell me why, I never want to hear you say”_

And Tooru is suddenly more gracious than ever that Iwaizumi turned down those scouters from Nagoya, even that he gave up volleyball completely, because otherwise he might have ended up like his Karasuno friends, truly separated from the one person he needs in his life more than anyone else.

_“I want it thaaaaat way”_

Someone touches his arm.

“Dance with me?” Iwaizumi requests, and Tooru immediately assumes he’s hallucinating.

It’s so out of character. So out of character because Iwaizumi wouldn’t be caught dead dancing. He’s dipped out of it every other time life’s presented the opportunity- at his sister’s wedding, at their graduation party. Tooru has always just presumed it’s because he’s bad at it, doesn’t like everyone’s eyes on him maybe, but that’s not the case at all. Iwaizumi _had_ just done the limbo in front of 100 strangers, bending in ways Tooru never dreamed he could. And for three years he filled the star position on their volleyball team, playing not just in Miyagi but all over the country, amassing admirers even more easily than his charismatic captain at times.

Maybe Tooru doesn’t know Iwaizumi as well as he thought. He could piece together Iwaizumi’s character for another decade and a half to come and never hope to see the entire picture.

Of course Tooru takes his hand.

The collective bad singing stops when the song changes to something quicker and more upbeat, but no one comments when he and Iwaizumi join the other pair of dancers.

The shorter half of their duo, Iwaizumi sets a hand on Tooru’s hip, so Tooru places his on the nook of his shoulder.

He hates to admit it but for all of his athletic poise, Tooru feels like a tin man that hasn’t been oiled when it comes to dancing. He’s not good at gentle like Iwaizumi is, he can put power and precision into his serves but not looseness and placidity. He doesn’t know how to let the music course through his body and guide him on instinct, to endure the frigid scorch of where Iwaizumi’s skin connects with his, or to stop obsessing over the sweet danger of how they must look like a _couple_ waltzing on the beach beneath the stars like this. Ultimately, he doesn’t know how to shut off his _goddamn brain._

Iwaizumi’s not embarrassed at all, he’s moving in perfect tune with the melody, exuding a physical confidence that has Tooru’s mouth watering. He is now a man at eighteen, no longer a boy still growing into himself. The way he maneuvers his body and carries his shoulders is automatic in its demeanor, and it's so different from Tooru’s conscious calculation of every thing he does.

 _I shouldn’t have agreed to dance,_ Tooru sweats, pitying himself, but who is he kidding, Oikawa Tooru is a masochist who could never refuse Iwaizumi anything.

He stumbles distractedly, and Iwaizumi says, “Let go, no one’s watching us.”

 _That’s not it,_ he wants to voice, _I don’t care about that._

But instead he whispers “Sorry,” and tries to concentrate less on his long gangly limbs and more on the flickering of firelight in Iwaizumi’s almond eyes.

Tooru lets Iwaizumi swing him around in grand circles, dip him low enough to tickle the ground, because if there’s one thing he never doubts it’s that his partner will catch him before he falls.

And just like that he’s soaring, light as a bird by the time the song changes to something slow again, _Blue Ocean Floor,_ and Tooru childishly curses Hanamaki for requesting Justin Timberlake.

_‘Frequencies so low, heart on a string’_

Tooru expects Iwaizumi to let go and return to their seats but Iwaizumi does the opposite- he pulls Tooru closer, so close they wouldn't be able to fit a volleyball in the space between them. The hand on Tooru’s hip curls around his waist, stopping on the small of his back.

_‘Rain made of echoes, tidal wave rushing on and on’_

“I wanna tell you something.” Iwaizumi hushes, low enough the rest won’t hear.

It’s just them now, no one paying them attention anymore anyways. Sugawara and Sawamura are locked in an impassioned kiss, secluded in a bubble of their own, while the others are absorbed in food, friends, and fire, but the world around Tooru may as well not exist for all the attention he spares it.

“I would’ve told you earlier but I just figured it out myself.” Iwaizumi says.

“What is it?” Tooru swallows, tongue heavy as a lead pipe. Iwaizumi is the one about to spill a secret but Tooru feels as if _he’s_ teetering on the precipice, unbalancing the scale, too heavy with all these secrets of his own weighing him down.

_‘Under the water you scream so loud but the silence surrounds you’_

Yet of everything ever said, he would never have expected the next words to escape from his best friend’s lips,

“I’m gay.”

The world around Tooru pulses for a second, like an earthquake felt from underwater. His knees buckle beneath him but his partner tightens his grip, perpetually there to hold him upright.

_‘But I hear it loud and you fall in the deep and I'll always find you’_

"You're-" he starts, but the rest of the sentence doesn't make it out because it hits him, that even with a decade and a half of friendship he doesn’t know Iwaizumi at all. He doesn’t- Iwaizumi Hajime is a book he’d assumed he had memorized before realizing its actually written in braille. He is a song Tooru thought he’d been listening to on repeat, only to discover its still being composed, not yet complete.

_‘Just send your heartbeat, I’ll go to the blue ocean floor’_

He planned to fight tooth and nail for their precious friendship. He convinced himself it’s easier this way. _Life_ is. He’d go on dates with satisfactory women his parents approved of and pretend he’s the perfect son they believe him to be. He’d take the stairs up to the top of the professional world rather than scale the side of the building like a _persona non grata,_ because riding the elevator with Kageyama and Ushijima was always beyond his capability. Iwaizumi continuously convinced him he could still climb to their level without it.

Tooru planned to fake it until he makes it, but fighting his very self is so much more difficult than putting on a mask or building a wall, it’s the hardest he’s ever had to pretend, but Iwaizumi’s always been able to see into him, through his disguises, past his defences, as if they were all transparent.

 _‘Where they find us no_ _more’_

Iwaizumi coming out was never a possibility, not even a consideration. How could Tooru have missed this? Has Iwaizumi fallen in love with a man? Has he fallen in love with a man that _isn’t_ Oikawa Tooru, as cruel fate would have it, the one person who would become anything and everything he ever wanted if he wasn’t so utterly terrified to jeopardize the extraordinary lives they’ve built together?

And Tooru can’t be a tin man, because he feels like his heart is pouring through his ears and eyes, swollen to bursting like a water balloon. In fact, he wishes a wizard would come steal it away, rip it right through his ribs because it hurts so severely that he _doesn’t want it anymore._

_('For what it’s worth, I don’t think that guy could say no to you if his life depended on it.')_

“I-I have to go.” Tooru cuts Iwaizumi off, yanking himself away like a bandaid before he says something stupid, risks it all for a sliver of hope, just to stop the knife from twisting, “To pee. I have to- I’ll be right back.”

_‘On that blue ocean floor’_

Iwaizumi protests, “Oikawa-” but Tooru doesn’t hear the rest. He bolts into the night and makes like the cowardly lion with his tail between his legs.

 

~

 

He imagines its what heartbreak might feel like- the missing piece he’d finally found useless to a puzzle ripped apart and stomped all over, doused in kerosene then set ablaze.

Hajime clenches his shaking fists, but it doesn’t stop the full body quaver, like he’s falling apart right at the seams.

The worst part isn’t that he didn’t get to finish what he was saying. It was the absolute devastation written across Oikawa’s face, the _anguish_ he found there, but Oikawa was a memory before Hajime could question _why._

What was all that talk about gender being a construct at the aquarium? The same brand of flagrant bullshit he sold to all those girls at school?

Kuroo’s words float to mind, _'It's like you two are on the same wavelength’_

Hajime isn't so sure about that anymore, because yes he knows that cherry is Oikawa’s favourite cola flavour, and they can have entire conversations with meaningful glances alone, but for once in his life he has no idea what his best friend is thinking- they've never been further apart. Not on different wavelengths but in entirely different oceans, Hajime the Pacific and Oikawa the Atlantic.

“Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa comes up beside him, “Oi, you okay?”

“Where did Oikawa go?” asks Hanamaki, “He left his phone h-“ but then he sees that his friend is trembling like a leaf in the breeze. “Oh no.”

“Calm down,” Matsukawa’s voice is steady as a lifeline, but Hajime can’t seem to grasp it. When did he start hyperventilating? Why can’t he cleave his eyes from Oikawa’s receding tracks in the sand?

Hajime knew that some people in his life might turn their backs on him once he figured out that he’s gay but he never expected _Oikawa,_ his very best friend and the one person he actually wanted to accept this part of him, to do so in any capacity.

Why wasn’t there a section in Sawamura’s pamphlet for rejection?

“Breathe, then tell us what happened.” prompts Hanamaki, “Did you have a fight?”

“I didn’t want there to be anything between us.” Hajime forces out, but somehow he’s instead made the distance separating them vaster than ever, “Nothing to regret.”

_And I misstepped._

Hanamaki studies Hajime carefully, and for all that he teases their capricious captain he cried the hardest at graduation when the inevitable fork in their path became that much closer, forcing them to go their separate ways.

“Go find him.” Hanamaki folds Oikawa’s abandoned cell phone into Hajime’s hand. The silly little martian charm hanging off the end is glowing in the dark. “Try the cliffs near the sea caves.”

“Tell him the rest, then bring him back to us.” appends Matsukawa.

Hajime relents, “But I-”

“Trust us on this, tell him everything.” Matsukawa gives him a shove, so he slides the phone into his pocket, swallows what’s left of his turmoil and takes off at a run.

 

~

 

He doesn’t even know where he is- he’d just ran blindly like a scared animal, through the shrine grounds, past the Sea Candle, until he made it to a bridge overlooking the rocky part of the coast.

Exhausted, Tooru collapses onto it and curls in on himself like a withered flower, hugging his knees to his chest, a six foot giant suddenly so small. The tears he had battled back so vehemently build up like heavy clouds moments before rainfall.

In the dead of night, Enoshima is an equivocacy to its constant summer congestion- completely deserted. Miscellaneous debris from the prior festivities is strewn about even here, the city cleaners yet to come by.

There’s something foreboding about it, the desolation of a place teeming with crowds of people young and old mere hours ago. Like sitting alone in an empty subway carriage, or arriving too early for a flight at the airport. It’s unsettling but not off putting how aware one becomes of themself in its vacancy.

Somebody sits beside Tooru on the rocks, startling him even though he'd heard his approach.

“I’m so sorry Iwaizumi.” he croaks, not looking up because who else would it be? “It’s fine that you’re gay. I’m probably bisexual myself so that's not why I- I just- I can’t say it. I’m sorry.” he finishes lamely. “You’ll always be my best friend.”

Iwaizumi simply leans back, hands clasped behind his head and says, “You’re forgiven.”

Tooru never deserved him.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed your footsteps. Like a treasure map.”

“Well I’m no treasure.”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue, “That’s not for you to decide.”

There’s the rustling of fabric, Iwaizumi reaches into his pocket and pulls out something of an indistinguishable shape. “Hold out your hand.” he requests.

“Why?”

“I… have something for you.” Now he looks bashful, like he hadn’t while dancing. “I found it that day we all played Suikawari. I was going to give it to you then but everyone was there and it felt stupid, so I held onto it.”

His slightly wider hand covers Tooru’s for a titillating second, something cool and smooth tickling his skin. He pulls away to reveal an intricate seashell resting on Tooru’s palm, mercury-gray with shiny teal markings spiralling all over.

“I never really did end up finding you a cooler one, way back when we were kids.” Iwaizumi rubs at his neck, “I dunno, it’s kinda weird looking, like an alien sort of thing. I thought you'd appreciate it.”

“Iwa-chan it’s extraordinary.” Tooru cradles the pearlescent shell in his hands as if it were as precious as a baby bird, “Thank you.”

It’s difficult to tell for certain in the midnight gloom, but Tooru is fairly sure that’s a blush blossoming on Iwaizumi's face. "It was nothing."

“Ne, you know what we need to do now?”

“Uh, what?” Iwaizumi appears wary of his companion’s now-mischievous expression, the initial storm all but dissipated.

“We need to make a sandcastle!”

“Oikawa, it’s like ass o’clock." Iwaizumi chides, "And we’re still in yukata.”

Tooru just flutters his eyelashes at him, “Is that a no?”

In half the time as usual it works. Tooru _knows_ that Iwaizumi secretly enjoys their frivolous shenanigans. When it comes down to it, they're still just teenagers enjoying their last hours of summer vacation.

He sighs, “... only _you.”_

 

~

 

They kneel in the sand, facing each other directly. Unlike a decade ago in Nobiru, this time they’re far enough from the shore that their creation won’t get wiped away by the tide.

“We don’t have any tools.” Hajime comments, looking around for an abandoned dixie cup or something. He doesn’t find any though.

“Guess we gotta use our hands.” Oikawa moves to push up the sleeves of his yukata, “The good old fashioned way.”

Together they make a small mountain between them, patting it down so the sand is compact. They build another mound atop the first, and it ends up looking like a small mochi stacked atop a larger one, or the bottom half of a snowman.

Has Hajime always been so hyperaware of Oikawa's person? He notices every envisaging hum to escape his throat, the angle that his fringe sweeps over his forehead, the peek of sharp collar bones beneath his yukata, his fingernails, short and neat-  

So when their hands brush accidentally, he jolts backwards at the sensation as if he'd been zapped by lightning. It baffles Oikawa greatly.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Sorry, sorry. I'm just a bit on edge. Nervous to see the apartments and stuff. We’re gonna be beat tomorrow morning, plus we haven’t even packed yet.” He's rambling, where did his composure go? They're weak excuses and Hajime knows it- this nonsense isn’t what he came here to say.

Oikawa eyes him suspiciously but for once doesn’t pry. It’s unlike him, but Hajime’s not sure how he’d explain the feeling of his skin being too tight and his heart beating too big beneath it if Oikawa were to ask anyways.

“And now, the final touch.” Oikawa presses the shell that Hajime found onto the top of their creation. “Perfect.”

They sit back to admire their mutual handiwork. “Mattsun _wishes_ he was this skilled. Good thing you brought my phone to document this.” Oikawa turns on flash to take a photo from every possible angle. _“We_ should be the ones going to art school.”

“In another life maybe.” Hajime comments. “There needs to be a Grand King for our castle.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a _tyrant.”_ Oikawa retaliates by dumping some sand down the back of Hajime’s yukata, “And I don’t tolerate dissent.”

He realizes it wasn't a wise idea when Hajime grins impishly, like a predator in the dim. “War it is then,” Hajime scoops up two handfuls of sand and charges towards his prey.

“Have mercy!” Oikawa cries, avoiding the handfuls thrown at him, though he is giggling the entire time. “My kingdom! My _clothes!_ Nooo-!”

Hajime whips another handful of sand in his direction, so Oikawa dodges to the left, except he ends up tripping over their pitiful sandcastle, crushing it in a magnificent gust.

Sore all around, flower crown askew, he rubs at the dust in his eyes. Hajime stands above him, ever amused.

"And so Rome finally falls." he holds his hand out as a peace offering to help Oikawa up, and Oikawa takes it, but he yanks an unsuspecting Hajime down into the castle's remains right after him.

“You’re joining me in its ruins.” he is informed smugly.

“Is revenge really a good idea when there’s no one around to witness me drown you?” Hajime shakes the dirt out of his hair like a dog caught in the rain would, and Oikawa can’t help but giggle even more.

“Well we’ve always done everything together, haven’t we?”

Telling fondness that bleeds out from Hajime's answering grin. “We have.”

Thoroughly worn, with their yukatas already in a state that’d make both of their mothers faint, they sprawl out together on the cool sand. Ahead, the sun has begun to rise above the horizon, reds and yellows glow like embers, smudging over the rolling waves. Most of the buildings around have their lights completely out, their outlines blending into the amalgamated sky.

Have they really been out here that long? Yet Hajime doesn’t want to leave. Sitting on this deserted beach, far across the country, just he, Oikawa, and the fireflies at an ungodly hour, lost in the myriad of reflections across the shore. Hajime can’t help but feel as if it’s a place he’s meant to be, a moment of infinite to share.

_Is this the missing puzzle piece?_

But it can’t be… because this feeling, he’s felt it before. Up in a magnolia tree with Oikawa at eight, both children too terrified to climb back down to the ground. At thirteen in the Kitagawa Daiichi gymnasium as his adolescent hand slammed _just right_ against a volleyball Oikawa had sent his way, accuracy pinpoint.

Even in high school while sitting beside Oikawa on the bus to the spring qualifiers, both of them thrumming with anticipation, hungry for victory. He had felt it.

Hajime had declined the offer from Nagoya, instead sending an application attained through months of painstaking study to Keio in Tokyo and thought, _yes, this where I’m supposed to be._

_(with you)_

When it comes down to it, perhaps they’re really not all that different from how they were a decade ago.

“I don’t want to leave.” Oikawa says, voice soft and gravelly. He runs his fingers through the sand, savouring its satiny touch for the last time.

“Me neither.”

 _The missing piece was here the entire time,_ Hajime realizes, _not in Enoshima but right in front of me._

“Hey…” He turns to Oikawa intently, mind made up to do what he came here to. “I lied to you.” he says forthwith, “That time at the bar when I said I loved teasing you. It's true, yeah, but it wasn't what I was going to say.”

“It's fine.” Oikawa lets a handful of sand slowly trickle through the spaces between his fingers. “We all say silly things when we’re drunk. Need I remind you of the time I called you in tears because that one girl I dated said the moon landing was fake?”

"That was hilarious but this is different." Hajime insists. “Until then… I’ve never lied to you.”

“You _also_ told me the moon landing was fake!”

“Okay, I’ve never lied to you when it _mattered.”_

Then, Iwaizumi Hajime takes a huge leap. He moves to cover Oikawa’s hand with his, an innocent gesture at first, but it teeters on dangerous when Hajime leaves it there, now heavy with meaning.

He doesn’t need an impassioned speech or a coming out party, doesn’t need a fancy box of White Day chocolates or a bouquet of red roses.

Because if he and Oikawa have always done everything together then maybe this was no exception. Maybe he’s been holding one of Oikawa’s missing pieces too, and this time they can build whatever they wish with all of them combined.

“I want to be completely honest with you before we start the next part of our lives. I’ll never lie to you again.” Hajime swears it like a vow, “There’s one more thing that I’ve realized.”

He fills the spaces between Oikawa’s fingers with his own instead, "It's never going to be enough, Tooru.”

It’s only two short syllables, he’s heard it many times before, yet the sound of his name on Hajime’s tongue causes Oikawa to choke on a gasp, free hand shooting up to his mouth in shock as if he cannot allow himself to _hope_ because Hajime’s never said it when it's just the two of them, not if he didn’t have to.

"I can't stand the thought of someone else meaning more to you than I do. Don't misunderstand," Hajime pleads, "What I want... what I want is for us to be like Sawamura and Sugawara. I love you like _that."_

What was left of Oikawa’s composure shatters into a myriad of fragments. The Grand King has been deposed once again, but this time it's not someone else’s fault, and not his own either.

It’s all _Hajime’s_ fault.

Oikawa looks down at his lap, fringe covering his eyes. “I meant it when I called you oblivious.” He shakes his head incredulously when he says, “I wasn’t going to tell you. Ever. But I guess nothing about this vacation has really gone as expected, huh?”

“Tell me what?”

A slow tear trickles down Oikawa's cheek. Hajime automatically reaches out to touch him but falters for what may be the first time ever.

"My whole life I've felt the same, Iwaizumi. I love you more than anything." Oikawa says, returning the favour of thoroughly blowing Hajime's mind.

Oh. _Oh._

The enigmatic old man by the sea had it right this entire time. Of course he did.

Hajime breaches that distance he had aborted, leans a daring inch closer, wipes away that estranged tear and coaxes Oikawa up by the chin.

“Hey, I thought we agreed no more crying.” he says in a timbre he hopes is reassuring.

"Shoulda’ pinkie promised." Oikawa lets out a watery, humourless laugh. "Y’know, I was finally ready to get over it. Suga was gonna help me and everything. The world is cruel to certain kinds of love and I’d never wanna subject _you_ to it, especially for my own gain. I’m trying not to be selfish anymore.”

“You’re not selfish.” Hajime counters, thinking of Oikawa staying after school to help the first years with their serves, Oikawa volunteering at his nephews volleyball league every week, even Oikawa putting Seijou’s bitter loss aside to befriend their former enemies. “But you’re forgetting something. The world can be cruel, but that cruelty reminds us that the good things are worth it.”

Because earth is that much more beautiful when seen from outer space.

_(You're worth it, Tooru)_

Hajime channels everything he's ever felt for this ridiculous boy into his gaze, wills his best friend to just _understand_ like he’s always done. He had already given away all of himself the moment they met a decade and a half ago, he just hadn't articulated it yet. He’s never been so good with words.

_Besides, you're not the only one who can be selfish._

Hajime doesn’t need to agonize over the answer to this question if he asks it himself, “Can I kiss you, Oikawa?”

He is snatched roughly by the collar. Contrary to his outwardly brazen poise, Oikawa too is manic, delirious and vulnerable yet still a thing of beauty. The sun has risen above the horizon when he demands, “Don't you dare start calling me Oikawa again.”

He tugs Hajime forward and crushes their lips together, answering _yes,_ making it real, pouring everything into it as if he really has wanted this for an unbearably long time. Hajime is overwhelmed at first, any coherent thought other than _we’re really doing this_ swiftly chased out of his head, because it feels like more than their mouths being slotted into place, or X being found on the treasure map.

As for the logistics, Hajime's sure it's obvious that he’s never done this with anyone before but lack of experience was never something that stopped him, especially when it came to Oikawa Tooru, his teammate, his captain, his #1, his partner, his best friend…

And Oikawa kisses like he does everything else- with a conviction that consumes the both of them. So Hajime allows Oikawa to take him under, to wash him away in a crashing tidal wave.

Ultimately, their first kiss can be described as following: wet and sandy. He cradles Oikawa's jaw in his hands like it’s something delicate. A prized antique. A fragile seashell. He runs his fingers down the smooth expanse of his cheeks and feels wetness there, a remaining few tears have escaped, so he wipes those away with the pads of his thumbs.

The hand gripping Hajime’s collar slides beneath his yukata and around his shoulder blades to pull their bodies closer. Oikawa knots those capable hands in his soft spikes and tilts his head to better envelop the seam of his mouth, to suck his breath right out of his lungs and it's _brilliant,_ this give and take, ebb and flow _._ There’s no way something this right isn't worth the risk. Hajime would fight armies for this. Overturn islands. He’d renounce the world and everything within it for _him._

 _“Hajime,”_ Oikawa whines into his mouth. It travels through his body and renders Hajime boneless. A warm tongue sweeps greedily across his bottom lip, parting his mouth so their breaths can mix together, like sea spray. Oikawa tastes like the peppermint toothpaste they’ve been sharing for the past few weeks but Hajime can't get enough. His head is spinning, its gears malfunctioned again, not paused but in hyper-drive. He's going to think of this whenever he brushes his teeth, every morning when he wakes up and every night before he goes to sleep, and all the time in between. He’s going to think of this kiss with every glance at his best friend, every thought, even, because there’s no going back now.

There is only forward.

An amplifying whirr of machinery causes them to break apart, caught like two deer in the headlights, panting as if they’d just played a dozen consecutive volleyball games. A beach cleaner cruises by, questioning the two individuals alone on the beach at this hour no doubt, but they pay it no mind, too mesmerized by each other, overwhelmed by the line they’ve crossed and erased.

The whirring fades, the morning still once again, and Hajime doesn’t realize he had been holding his breath until it all escapes from his lungs in a burst of laughter. And it’s contagious, because Oikawa is laughing too, unrestrained and wild as a volcanic eruption. He clutches at his abdomen and nearly doubles over with mirth.

“Hey,” Hajime’s smile is so big, his dimples so deep, they threaten the edges of his face. “You tired?”

“Honestly… I don’t think I could sleep if I tried.”

“Can we make one more pitstop? Before we leave.”

“Where to?”

Hajime takes his hand, “I've got one more surprise for you.”

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Oikawa Tooru✌**

**1 August 20XX, 2:52 AM**

 

***8 Missed Calls***

***1 Voicemail Message***

 

 **Suga-chan:** Oikawa you ok??

 **Suga-chan:** its late so we’re all heading back

 **Suga-chan:** im not sure what happened but remember you can call me anytime!!

 

**1 August 20XX, 4:13 AM**

**Me:** youre such a mom sugachan  <3

 **Me:** but...

 **Me:** I dont think ill be needing to (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

 **Me:** thank you

 

~

 

Tooru's still having trouble comprehending that any of this is really happening. It's hard to believe he's not completely delusional, trapped in a parallel reality, or a wishful fever dream. But at the same time there's something _too_ real about the languid swing of their clasped, perfectly fitted hands, like the steadiness of a pendulum on a clock. (Not to mention the phantom of their kiss from earlier, the memory of which has been playing in Tooru's head with detail much too vivid to be just a fanciful fabrication).  

They completely bypass the bridge back home, where Tooru is instead lead up the ivy covered steps to the island’s shrine grounds. A jogger approaches, and he expects Iwaizumi to let go of his hand when she passes but Iwaizumi does no such thing. Tooru’s heart swells all the more for it.

They follow a path different from the one they took to the main shrine, this one strewn with periwinkle hydrangeas and dotted with tiny turtle ponds. Halfway there, they make it to another fork in the road marked by a heart shaped sign.

“What is this place?” Tooru wonders, inspecting the multitide of prayer boards hung around it. All of the wishes written upon them are for prosperity in relationships, marriage, and the like.

“Come,” Iwaizumi tugs Tooru along, to what appears to be a podium with a giant bell in its centre. It’s a breathtaking place, like a slice of a fantasy, overlooking the coast and framed by fences covered in locks and various other heart shaped trinkets.

Atop the podium, there’s a plaque which reads:

**_The Legend of the Goddess and the 5-Headed Dragon_ **

**_Long ago there lived a 5-headed dragon. The dragon was a wicked one, demanding sacrifices and causing floods, even raining down fires to flaunt its immense power. In the year 552, the Heavens and the Earth suddenly began to shake, and the goddess Benzaiten appeared above the clouds. She parted them to bring forth sunlight, which raised the island of Enoshima from the ocean._ **

**_The Dragon immediately fell in love with her, and asked for her hand in marriage, but knowing of the evils the Dragon had committed, Benzaiten refused. The Dragon thus vowed to mend its ways, and earn Benzaiten’s eternal affections. It turned itself into a mountain so as to protect her even after death, and keep watch over her child, Enoshima. On the shore opposite Enoshima, the ‘Dragon's Mouth Mountain’ still stands in all its magnificence._ **

**_The Ryuren no Kane (the Bell of the Dragon’s Love) was built on Lover’s Hill, Enoshima in August of 1996 to commemorate this legend. Today, many couples visit to confess their affection. It is said that those who ring the bell, and then attach a padlock bearing their names to the nearby wire fence, will enjoy eternal love._ **

“This is the cheesiest place ever,” Tooru blurts, “I _love_ it.”

“I knew you would.” Iwaizumi shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “I guess we should exchange confessions now, or something.”

“I don’t know if my heart can handle that again so soon.” Tooru jokes, but there is a fair amount of truth in the statement.

“Okay, you’re right, we can take it slow." Iwaizumi says, "But can I just say one thing? I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

Tooru squeezes his hand, encouraging him. If this is going to work, if _they_ are going to work, he has to let Iwaizumi know, “I'm listening.”

“I….” Iwaizumi starts, and _now_ he looks anxious, unsure, but clears his throat anyways. “I've always felt different towards you. I don’t want you to think this is a sudden thing. It's why I chose you as my best friend, following you everywhere all these years. Over time those feelings just... evolved. They grew up with us, they're still growing, and now we're here, in a month we'll be in Tokyo, and in a couple more maybe somewhere even further." the uncertainty seeps away, Iwaizumi’s brows gathering with a familiar determination, "But I don't want to trail behind anymore, I want to stand beside you. Volleyball put me there, in that unreachable spot on your left. I joined because you asked me to, it's no secret. Except I stayed when it gave me that short lived peek of being your partner. Your _equal._ It was the best feeling in the world.”

It’s just so preposterous that Tooru might laugh, is all that true? Did Iwaizumi really feel like Tooru was above him?

All these years Tooru himself has been the one struggling to keep up.

“In the end it still wasn't enough," Iwaizumi persists, taking Tooru's other hand, connecting them together in an unending circle, "And now, after a little push and a great deal of introspection, I finally get why. It was the missing piece."

Beneath the rising sun, Iwaizumi's eyes are clear and unending and never straying from his. And _oh,_ that’s what it was- the glimpse Tooru had caught there after their final volleyball game. But even then it wasn’t so potent, unmitigated and pure that he'd put his life on the line without question for this boy should he ever require it. He'd leap off this cliff into the harbour right now if Iwaizumi asked, and truthfully, the sentiment is nothing new.

Backlit by the morning sky, Iwaizumi declares, “I want the exact same thing I always have, my favourite person in any way he'll have me."

“I told you my heart couldn’t take this,” Tooru’s voice wavers feebly. He can _feel_ the deepening blush as it creeps over his nose, up to the tips of his ears. It taints his smooth complexion, but he doesn’t care so much anymore, it’s just them two here, and he's got nothing left to hide or be ashamed of anymore, "When did you get so goddamn eloquent, what the hell."

"A great deal of introspection, remember?"

“A great deal indeed.” Tooru grins boyishly at him. "You're my favourite person too. I want whatever you do."

“Now then,” Satisfied with his speech, Iwaizumi steps up to the podium and wraps hands around the thick rope beneath the Dragon’s bell, “Should we wake everyone up?”

“That’s the most _Seijou_ suggestion you’ve ever made.” Tooru swoons, “Hell yes.”

He joins his partner at the rope. They wait a single heartbeat, a mere second, then rock the string back and forth with as much combined power as they can, ringing the great bell together.

The sound booms, echoing into the nearby trees, rustling their leaves, and setting dozens of crows and other birds askew into the sky.

They ring the bell, and Tooru’s mind clears, empties out of his ears, and everything simplifies. Nothing else matters but here and now, his best friend and himself. Because this is it for him; it's only ever been Iwaizumi Hajime and he knows in his soul it was always going to stay that way. There isn’t going to be anyone like him, there never was and now there doesn't have to be.

Maybe he likes both boys and girls, and maybe relationships that deviate from the norm come with all kinds of complications. Maybe it’s not what his parents had in mind for the family name, and maybe it’ll inconvenience him if he ever makes it big, but Tooru doesn't want to think about it yet, he has confidence they'll work it out later like they always do. Together.

He wants to savour this moment, etch it permanently into his brain so he can relive it in ten months when they’re pouring over textbooks in their new apartment, and again in fifty when they’re clad in black gowns and tassled hats, suitcases packed to travel the world. Even in six hundred, when they’ve lived a life together so long and intertwined that no amount of difficulties along the way could ever doubt the journeys worth.

When both of their heads are pounding in protest, they release the bell, surely having woken up the entire island.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a lock for the fence,” Iwaizumi mentions, “I didn’t think we’d actually come here.”

“I didn’t think anything today would happen ever but here we are.” Tooru reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “Lucky thing my creative juices never stop flowing.” Iwaizumi looks confused when he removes the glow-in-the-dark martian strap dangling off its end.

“You’re kidding.” he says, but the amusement on his face betrays him.

“No-pe,” Tooru pops the ‘p’, “Look, they even left us some markers over there.”

“I think those are for the prayer boards.”

Tooru shrugs, “Well, whatever. I’m writing our names.” He uncaps the lid, then writes ‘Hajime & Tooru’ in the tiniest lettering he can manage, right atop the martian’s chest. He hands it to Iwazumi when he’s finished. “You can pick a spot for it, Iwa-chan.”

“Still calling me Iwa-chan, huh?”

“You can pick a spot for it, Hajime-chan.” Tooru grins cheekily. He doesn’t want to go throwing around Iwaizumi’s precious first name so casually just yet- he wants to savour it just a while longer.

“You think you’re so clever.” Iwaizumi huffs, then ponders where to hang the little martian. He settles on a spot overlooking harbour, facing Dragon’s Mouth Mountain in the distance. He makes sure it’s not buried beneath anything else, so it can soak up sunlight, and glow bright even in the darkness. “There.”

“Aww, I hope he likes his new home.”

“A piece of plastic from a gacha machine doesn’t have feelings, Idiotkawa.”

Tooru gasps, “Iwa-chan! Don’t slander our _son-”_

“I’m not awake enough to humour this conversation,” Iwaizumi declares, “Besides, we should get going now. We have to meet the landlord in Tokyo by three, remember? And we need to change clothes."

"Fine, as long as we can get coffee on the way,” Tooru complies, "I want a latte. With a milk bun."

"As you wish, your Highness." Iwaizumi tugs him along towards the exit, smile never having left. Tooru hopes absently that he never, ever stops.

 

~

 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are descending the narrow staircase when he and Oikawa return that morning with piping hot coffee and assorted milk buns for all.

“Good morning friends~!” Oikawa bellows zestfully, the volume causing them to wince. “We come bearing breakfast!”

“I’ll forgive you for yelling at me for that reason alone.” Hanamaki tuts. Judging by their half lidded eyes and sleep-mussed hair, their other two friends have clearly just woken up. "And also because you brought Tully's and not the cheap convenience store crap."

“Thank Iwa-chan, he was kind enough to treat us!”

“Didn’t have much of a choice seeing as _someone_ never carries around his wallet.” Hajime insinuates, although he doesn’t actually mind in the slightest. He was given a _second_ kiss on the doorstep in exchange, this one swift but sweet enough to stop his heart, and frankly he’d buy out the entire cafe if it meant getting a third.

They remove their sandals at the genkan, setting down the tray and pastry bags. They gather at the kitchen table, where Hajime delegates each drink to its respectful owner: Americano for himself, a white chocolate mocha with whip for Oikawa, hojicha for Matsukawa, and double cream drip coffee for Hanamaki.

“I see you two are still in your yukatas.” Matsukawa’s interested expression is that ucanny breed of _knowing._ “Were you up all night?”

“Oikawa hasn't sighed once since he came in.” Hanamaki squints, analyzing his former captains like one would a math equation. “And Iwaizumi’s nose isn’t scrunched up like he’s constipated either.”

“Say that again." Hajime cracks his knuckles threateningly- Oikawa’s drama queen tendencies have undeniably rubbed off on him. "I dare you."

Then Hanamaki gasps, as if he’s realized something between them has changed. Hajime doesn’t have time to question if it really has before Hanamaki scrambles to stand, bellowing much too loudly for 6:30am, “I knew it! I _knew_ it! I told you!”

“We've been outed.” Oikawa laughs, and Hajime can _hear_ the smile in his voice.

“FUCK YEAH! Matsukawa- pay up my friend~”

“Damn, you guys couldn’t have waited like, one more hour?” Matsukawa fishes inside of his back pocket and pulls out a ¥10,000 note. He looks extremely reluctant to part with it. "This asshole has like, all my money now. How am I supposed to afford art school like this?"

“What the actual hell are you people talking about?” Hajime huffs.

“On our first day here we made a bet.” Matsukawa explains, “On whether or not you and Oikawa would get together. But both me and Hanamaki were on the same side- we knew you would eventually. The question was whether it would be here in Enoshima or in Tokyo.”

“It was a matter or how idiotic the two of you are, basically.” Hanamaki appends, snatching the money out of the other middle blocker’s grasp and fanning himself with it, “of how long it would take you to get your shit together.”

"Less idiotic than I’d thought, so congrats on that.” Matsukawa grimaces.

“You’re lucky I’m in too good of a mood to be pissed about this.” Hajime informs him, although he is quite mind boggled that everyone else seemed to anticipate this would happen when Hajime and Oikawa both hadn’t even considered it until it did.

"I mean, I was genuinely surprised when you came out to me, Oikawa! I promise none of my advice was for an alterior motive." Hanamaki swears, and Hajime's heart flutters, because Oikawa had gone to him for help even though he hates asking for it more than _anything._ "We actually forgot about the bet before then so I reminded Matsukawa about it immediately after, and doubled the amount, because I knew I'd win."

"So its _your_ fault I lost ¥10,000!" Matsukawa points a finger at Oikawa, "You should really compensate."

"Hmm, well I think you just gotta stop making bets with Makki, Mattsun." retorts Oikawa, swatting his hand away like one would a fly, "Clearly he plays dirty. You should know better."

“Anyways, whatever, come _here_ you two!” Hanamaki snatches both of his former captains into a hug, nearly toppling them over onto the tatami mats. That there’s no coffee spillage in the process is nothing short of a miracle. “I’m so happy for you!”

“So am I, even if I’m broke now.” Matsukawa joins in on their group hug, the first with all four Seijou third years since their graduation. “Congrats.”

“Just no excessive PDA please, it’s all we ask.”

“You guys are the best friends anyone could ask for,” Oikawa gushes, “I'll forgive you for making bets about us behind our back, but no promises about the PDA.” His eyes find Hajime’s and he winks- it’s more silly than it is seductive, but still- it’s a promise, and Hajime’s heart speeds up with that exhilaration he’d been seeking- the type volleyball alone couldn’t supply anymore, because it’s been his partner who made him feel that way since he first stepped onto the court.

They disband when an older voice comes from the hallway, “Oh, something smells heavenly.”

“Morning, Ji-san!”

“Nice Anpanman shorts!”

“You’re all up early.” Matsukawa Sr. notes, eyeing the tiny mountain of pastries between them. “What do we have here?”

“Milk buns.” Hajime catches the way he licks his lips when he peers down inside it. Old man’s got quite the sweet tooth. “We got you a coffee too, it’s the one still in the tray.”

“You shouldn’t have! Thank you.” Unabashedly delighted, Matsukawa Sr. takes up the empty seat at the table. "I haven't had one of these in years." he bites into the glossy round confection. "Ah, there's custard inside."

"It's not a real milk bun if there isn't." Oikawa repartees. “Makki, you should try making these. They’re even better when they’re fresh out of the oven.”

"So that you can eat them all? Nah, get your boyfriend to do it."

“B-Boyfriend!?” Oikawa chokes on his milk bun at that. Hajime likewise misses his mouth and ends up spilling his Americano over his yukata (he needs a new one now anyways). “Uh, I don’t know if- we haven’t really-” Oikawa’s eyes flit from Hajime to Matsukawa Sr. in a panicked frenzy, unsure of what to say.

Hajime chugs the last dregs of his coffee and rises from the table. “I’ll make them for you.” he says to Oikawa, then leans over to press a quick peck to the top of his head, “Excuse me, I’m going to go take a shower.”

His boyfriend makes an elated sort of noise, and Hajime can feel the gleam of _all_ of their smiles as he ascends the stairs.

 

~

 

**CONVO VIA: SMS <LINE>**

**SIM ACCT. OWNER:** **Iwaizumi Hajime**

**1 August 20XX, 8:11 AM**

 

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** BRO

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** yall should meet us for lunch

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** weve got so many great places to show u

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** u cant go to tokyo w/out trying afuri ramen its illegal

 

 **Me:** well shit guess i dont have a choice

 **Me:** ill check with the rest

 

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** YAY lmk!

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** btw me n kuroo have gone to keio a hundred times for vball practices so if u ever want anyone to show u around u know how to reach us!!

 

 **Me:** i think i’ll take you up on that :)

 

~

 

On their way out of Matsukawa Sr.’s house, Hajime notices a tiny photo on the wall. He’s walked by it countless times during their weeks of residence, but only now do the finer details of the weathered print catch his eye.

Within the monochrome image, a 30 years younger Matsukawa Hisao sits alongside another man on the steps of a shrine. He’s the spitting image of his nephew at this age, all laugh lines and venerable eyebrows, and Hajime can’t help but notice that Matsukawa and his companion are pressed up close, their hands both obscured by their bodies in a way that has Hajime certain they’re intertwined.

Above their heads are magnolia trees.

He wonders if this man was Matsukawa Hisao’s missing piece. Maybe, maybe not. But either way, this old man’s hospitality has given him something greater than any scholarship or victory ever could.

A horn blares from outside, disrupting Hajime’s thoughts.

“Iwa-chan hurry up! Makki said we can stop by Disneyland if we finish early!”

“On my way!”

He touches the photo, soft as the seabreeze.

He leaves Enoshima on the crest of a wave, eternally meeting it’s trough in the middle, forever surging, never yielding.

 

~

**Author's Note:**

> here are some photos of places and things in this fanfic you might enjoy:
> 
> [enoshima street](https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1260&bih=639&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=-D5dW5rmHsfQjwSBgpygAw&q=enoshima&oq=enoshima&gs_l=img.3..35i39k1l2j0l8.14823.14960.0.15160.2.2.0.0.0.0.123.202.1j1.2.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.2.201...0i67k1.0.l1R0zILneDM#imgrc=D6HSOxhnxb4BQM:)  
> [enoshima beach](https://www.google.ca/search?q=enoshima+beach&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjV7MvO_8DhAhVM9IMKHaf7D40Q_AUIDigB&biw=1536&bih=731&dpr=1.25#imgrc=-IjB-nmTuzn62M:)  
> [enoshima aquarium (the jellyfish room)](http://wowsabi.co/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/enoshima-aquarium-8-1024x683.jpg)  
> [an immortal jellyfish](http://immortal-jellyfish.com/)  
> [suikawari](https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1536&bih=731&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=rIGrXMOeNMucjgTO46WQBg&q=suikawari&oq=suikawari&gs_l=img.3...56260.57568..57851...0.0..0.90.726.9......1....1..gws-wiz-img.......35i39j0i67j0.PiNtTrq9fzc#imgrc=po_JIOdLNQu87M:)  
> [the dragon's bell of love](http://qrtranslator.com/upload_files/0/15/58/1554/img/QRT_1453426402.jpg)  
> [papico popsicles, aka the best shit ever](https://www.google.ca/search?q=papico&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiO8tfHt8PcAhUl5YMKHcC2B3AQ_AUICigB&biw=1260&bih=639#imgrc=2d0uZZWUN79UkM:)  
> [a monaka](https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1260&bih=639&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=fEBdW-njLqjdjwSLr7GIAg&q=ice+cream+monaka+enoshima&oq=ice+cream+monaka+enoshima&gs_l=img.3...3998.4995.0.5120.9.9.0.0.0.0.123.797.8j1.9.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.1.94...0i30k1j0i8i30k1.0.X3J32kmJ_zs#imgrc=5KZGnc250MW-RM:)  
> [shirasu don (whitebait), enoshima's specialty](https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1260&bih=639&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=nT1dW6GXKsHqjwSO1YbYDA&q=enoshima+shirasu+don&oq=enoshima+shirasu+don&gs_l=img.3..0i24k1.218725.221312.0.221521.12.7.0.5.5.0.131.718.3j4.7.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.12.734...0j0i67k1j0i5i30k1j0i8i30k1j0i30k1.0.Fq3IJqhSM-8#imgrc=m2Ar-UnRTk-2BM:)  
> [alien seashell (green abalone shell)](https://www.google.ca/search?biw=1243&bih=640&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=DIBmW_m4E-bZjwT_xqjABw&q=green+abalone+shell&oq=green+abalone+&gs_l=img.1.0.0j0i30k1l2j0i8i30k1l2j0i24k1.21855.25895.0.27174.14.14.0.0.0.0.175.1307.11j3.14.0....0...1c.1.64.img..0.14.1305...0i67k1.0.bjgjUGPqqi8#imgrc=9J_efO14CmPM-M:)  
>   
> thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading! if youve enjoyed this story even a little bit do let me know, feedback validates my queer little soul  
> feel free to be my friend at [@hopipp on tumblr](http://hopipp.tumblr.com/)  
> or [@sugawara_kush on twitter](https://twitter.com/sugawara_kush)  
> (PS: there will be an epilogue! I can't make any promises on when I'll finish it, though. so subscribe to the series just in case! It'll be posted as a separate work)
> 
> (PPS: on a more serious note- if you're having trouble coming out, to yourself or to others, the brochure links that sawamura sends iwaizumi are actually working links. if they still leave you with questions, or if you ever just need someone to talk to, my tumblr ask box and twitter dms are always open! i'll be your suga <3)


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